Dear Edward
by Loie
Summary: Bella Swan has been in love with her best friend, Edward Cullen, completely without his knowing. As their friendship drifts, she struggles between coping and fighting the seemingly inevitable as she is haunted by memories of the past.
1. Tuesday, June 29

**If you're reading this and you've read my previous stuff, please don't kill me! For me, writing absolutely CANNOT be forced. If it is, I end up hating it and get pissy at the whole story. Also, I've been through a lot. I'm not the 16 year-old girl who first stumbled upon this site. I'm extremely busy with school, especially this year. Life gets in the way, too. So, this is my way of giving excuses as to why I haven't updated in probably over a year for Beautiful Immorality and I cringe to imagine how long for Unknown Guest. I'm sorry. I really am cuz I read fics too and it stinks when writers don't update. I wrote this over the summer and am now quickly editing bare minimum for it to fit as a fanfic. The writing is very choppy and really unclear, so I'm sorry if you don't understand, but it gets clearer as you get flashbacks and that kind of good stuff. If you like this, please tell me so I will edit and put up the other chapters. If people don't tell me that they like the story/put it on alert or favorites, I'll just take it down. **

**Summary: Bella Swan has been in love with her best friend, Edward Cullen, completely without his knowing. As their friendship drifts, how will she cope?**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or "I Miss You."**

**And Avyncentia, if you're reading this, please don't read this story. **

Tuesday, June 29, 2010

Dear Edward,

I have decided to write letters to you. Not to give to you, of course, but just to vent and tell you all the things I want to, but can't. And believe me, there is a lot of stuff to tell, not including all the shit that will happen in the future between you and me. And I have a bad feeling that none of these things will be good. So call me crazy, but I have to do this in order to get all my pent-up feelings out of me. I want them to be gone so bad, but I can't get rid of them because I can't tell you, of course. It's a vicious cycle, I know.

But I can tell you here, which is the next best thing, I guess. So let me tell you the one thing I've been hiding from you since about August, which is 10 months ago. Way too long to keep such a secret, if you ask me. I love you. That statement is pretty much the center of this whole mess, really. If I didn't love you, then I don't think I would have had this problem of getting my heart broken by myself, and you, of course, every day. Yes, Edward. Every single fucking day. All of this will be revealed and exampled over time, I assure you. But I just wanted to make it clear for you at the very beginning so there is no confusion.

Today picked up from where yesterday left off. Mentally, that is. I kept thinking about my conversation with you last night. If you could even call it a conversation. It was all texts. Again, I let my mind do the talking without any filter. But it was true, Edward. I'd rather it be last summer with me thinking you were the weirdest kid in the world (yet somehow unable to abandon) and you having time and will to hang out with me. And yes, I regret speaking my mind, but I don't at the same time. Why? Because I want you to know that I think these things. I want you to know that I know what's going on, and that I don't like it. It's just another way that you break my heart.

And then you did it again today. I went on Facebook just for kicks and I saw you online at 1:50! This was the same as the movie you said you couldn't go with me. I felt so dejected and betrayed and sad and angry that I had to ask you why. And then you said you couldn't go because you had to practice your piano. At that specific time. But the good thing was that you made me have a revelation today, which is another big step for me. Here it is: you love your goddamn piano more than you love your friends (specifically, me) and your family. Admit it. You know it's true.

And that just brings me one step closer to liberation. See, I don't want to love you anymore because all I feel is pain now. Yes, I really do think I loved you. I'm using past tense now because I hope it puts me on a faster road to recovery from you. I want to move on because it's so obvious you will never love me back. I don't even think you want to be my friend anymore.

Today I went to the library to get some peace and quiet so I could work on my lab report. I honestly don't know how I survived living at home during school for 12 years. Anyway, I was listening to Blink while graphing on my computer when guess what song came up. "I Miss You." Our song, I think you said once. And that got me thinking about the first time you sent me this song, for we sent the link so many times to each other while I was away at school (1st semester, that is). But I remember the origin. Do you remember, Edward? It was when I went on vacation to Seattle for 5 days with Charlie. Not even a week, whereas you left me for a whole month. No, five days. And you texted me so many times and played piano on phone messages and even called me twice. It was, of course, right in front of Charlie, but do you know what? I loved it so much, even though I was embarrassed as ever. Why? Because you missed me and couldn't wait till I returned home. And guess what? I missed you, too. All I could think about was seeing you again.

But then maybe the best part (because I really did love it when you would play piano over the phone) was when I came home and checked my email. Do you know how many Facebook messages you sent me while I was away, Edward? It was 38. There were a lot of messages professing your longing to see me, lots of random shit that always made me laugh, and a lot of song links, but "I Miss You" stood out the most because the lyrics matched you the most. And we would send that song to each other whenever we especially wished we could be together ever since.

I must go finish my lab report. Fuck chemistry. I could go on down Memory Lane, but I'll save it all for another day. Maybe I will get the courage to talk to you tonight, but probably not. And you will probably avoid me like you have been since February. I'm assuming that my proposed movie night this Friday will not happen. And that makes me sad because I miss my friend. Until next time.

Love?

BMS

**Like I said, please express interest (I know it's really random and angsty, but it gets easier to follow) or else I will take it down. Thanks for your understanding.**

**-Loie**


	2. Wednesday, June 30

**I realized how vague these first letter is to you guys since you don't know the whole story, or rather, the history that brings this story to where it starts. So, I am going to post the first few chapters to get to the first big flashback so maybe you guys can get your bearings and decide if you like it or not.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or Facebook or anything created in the real world that is mentioned in this chapter and/or any other chapter in this story.**

Wednesday, June 30, 2010

Dear Edward,

So many things have been running through my head today, more so than usual, it seems. Right now I'm listening to some songs on Youtube to try and calm myself down. I'll try my best to tell you in a logical fashion, but bear with me if things seem muddled and confusing. Welcome to the dark recesses that are my mind.

I kept thinking about my stupid message conversation I had with you last night on Facebook. I really do hate that form of communication. It's so impersonal. I know you hate it, too. You told me once last fall. And I didn't even chat with you, I was too nervous. But I was looking for trouble last night, Edward. That and I was just messing with your mind. And I'm sorry that I made you uncomfortable. Believe me, it made me uncomfortable, too. But I really did want to know the answer to your first question. Thanks for the honest answer.

As for my reasons for getting so angry, I already told you. I talked to Alice last night about it because I was just so frazzled by it. Yes, she knows everything. She and Rose are the only ones, though my other close friends are suspicious. Am I really that much of an open book? I guess the answer is yes. But anyway, we were talking and I realized something, which is another step in the right direction for me. See, sometimes I don't even care anymore that I loved you as more than just a friend. I miss the way we loved each other as best friends. That's what makes me so sad. You made me so happy before and now the happiness is gone without a trace.

Talking to Alice helped me come to some conclusions, too. See, I'm so worried about losing your friendship. I need to tell you this, but in person for sure. I'm so tired of this virtual communication bullshit. We live 2 miles away from each other, dammit. But the problem is that I'm afraid, Edward. I'm afraid to talk to you. It makes me so nervous, especially a topic like this. I was never a confrontational girl, believe it or not. And I'm not too fond of heart-to-hearts, either. I don't know when I'll tell you, but I have to eventually. I thought of a good idea: I still need to take you to Hole-in-the-Wall. I can talk to you then, right? We could go to my Monroe Elementary (yours is obviously too far away) and talk in the park after our ice cream. Yes, it seems like the perfect plan. The only problem is that it's pretty much impossible to get you to do something with me that's not your idea.

I must cut this short. It's past 10 and I can barely keep my eyes open. On top of that, I have work tomorrow morning. Until next time, Edward.

Love?

BMS


	3. Thursday, July 1

**I forgot to warn you guys that this whole story has very foul language. It's rated T for a reason, so please don't ridicule me for not watching my mouth. Thanks!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or Facebook or anything created in the real world that is mentioned in this chapter and/or any other chapter in this story.**

Thursday, July 1, 2010

Dear Edward,

FUCK. YOU. Fuck you! I hate you! How could you be so heartless and just oblivious to life in general? I just can't believe it, I really can't. Who are you? Because I don't even know anymore.

Remember what you did today? You blew me off for the second time in the past three days. Oh yes, I think you're on your way to setting a world record for the most amount of bullshit excuses in a week. I asked you, a feeble attempt to grasp the last strings of hope that maybe we could hang out tomorrow, if you were free after all. Because you know what you said the first time? "Maybe Friday." You said the day of the week, not me. And then you bailed like the little coward asshole you are. What was your excuse? You have to work out at the health club tomorrow? Are you kidding me, Edward? Stop fucking with me because I'm not stupid. Be a man and just say you don't want to hang out. Just do it so I can stop hoping that we could be friends like we were before February.

You know, that's what really killed me today. It wasn't just the fact that you blew me off, though I am so upset about that you can't even begin to imagine. Renee even noticed that I was sad. And I'm a good liar, Edward. A very good liar. I can usually hide all my feelings when I want to. Thankfully, she assumed that all of it had to do with Alice and my sudden lack of dinner plans due to her boyfriend, Jasper.

But no, you teased me and gave me false hope in that you might come back to me. How did you do it? It was via a fucking text conversation. God dammit, I just want to talk to you in person. I hate Facebook chat and texting. I want to hear your voice and see your face and be able to reach out and touch you if I want. I told you that today, but not that last part, though I was thinking it. But I asked you about tomorrow and you said no and I said "Oh." And then, out of the blue, you called yourself an "uber asshole." You want to know what I thought? I thought jeez, it's about time you realized that you're being a shithead with your bullshit excuses.

But then I thought back to when you would call yourself that, back when you were my best friend, my rock. And yes, you did have your moments, but you were all-in-all a great guy. So I told you so. I also mentioned that I relied on you too much, which is true, and that it is kind of my fault because I cared too much, though I didn't say that last part, either. And then you know what your response was? Here, I'll quote it just because it's that good: "No it isn't your fault don't say silly stuff like that." Oh, how it warmed my heart. I thought you were finally back, my long-lost best friend finally found his way back to me and here to stay.

No. You snatched that away from me. I wanted so badly just to hang out with you, like we used to, that I asked if you could do anything at all tomorrow. And here's your answer to that and as to why: "Nae gotto go to ze health club" in order to "Stay in shape, hardly get out during the day." Does that sound remotely ridiculous to you, Edward? Because it sounds like the biggest bullshit I've ever heard. You work for only two hours per day.

Now that there, that tore my heart. You blew me off. Again. I wanted to cry so badly, but I was in the living room with Renee a mere five feet away from me. You hurt me so much. My former rock had turned to me, now crushing my heart instead of keeping me alive. But then, as always, the sadness turned to anger. I told you very upfront that your excuse was stupid. Hell, I even tried to give you an example to show you! But you just shut down and gave one of your typical empty responses. This time it was "okay." That really set me off. It was like I had no influence on you. You're just empty with no feedback whatsoever and it drives me nuts. I want to have an effect on you, mainly because you have had such an effect on me. You turned into a hollow shell of what used to be my best friend. It made me so upset I did what I reserve for only extreme cases: I cussed you out. I hope you remember that and how I never do that. Yes, I swear like a sailor, but I never direct it at people. But I did this time. "Fuck you." With that I shared my conclusion from the whole excuse you gave me: You'd rather spend time exercising than hanging out with a friend.

That's pathetic, Edward. Fuck you. Because I would drop almost anything to spend time with you. That's how much you mean to me. I have a few examples up my sleeve, but they shall be saved for later.

You want to know the best part? I still want to be your friend and I still want you to be mine. Pretty sick and twisted, huh? I thought of that as I was walking through Maple Park when I had to escape the confines of my home and Renee's watchful eye. That and the swings at Monroe were making me dizzy, so I couldn't stay close to home. The fresh air and little exercise really helped me calm down. I still wanted to slap you across your thin face like you deserved, but at least I didn't feel panicked like I was right after our texting match. And it got me thinking about everything that had gone on today.

I still love you and I hate myself for that. How many times will my heart break before it finally gets the idea and moves on? I don't know. I just want the pain to stop and since you're obviously not doing anything to help, I guess it's all up to me. I just don't want to get hurt anymore. If that means never talking to you again, I suppose that's something I will have to force myself to do, however difficult it may be.

Love?

BMS


	4. Friday, July 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or Facebook or anything created in the real world that is mentioned in this chapter and/or any other chapter in this story.**

Friday, July 2, 2010

Dear Edward,

Well, today is the Friday that you bailed on me. But there is always a silver lining, I suppose. Renee and I are going to see Toy Story 3 tonight. You know how much I love Disney movies, so you can probably imagine my relief that I am at least doing something, even if it is with my mom. I might even see you on Main Street tonight. I kind of hope I do, just so I can give you a death glare. I have to wonder, though, would you say "Hi" if you saw me with my mom? I don't think so. You are practically dead to me now, a zombie.

But what if you did? Would you feel guilty for avoiding me so blatantly? Would you tell me you were sorry? I don't think so, either. You haven't talked to me since I cussed at you. And I don't think you will. But I can't break down and talk to you first. I need to stop being so reliant on you.

But that shall have to be explained another day.

It was kind of funny in a sad and twisted way, how me and Renee came up with our plans. I went to the doctor today to get my physical for school and she asked me on the way there if I had any plans for tonight. I hesitated for a split second, wondering if I should confide in her about my wishing you would come over for a movie night. You see, I didn't ask if you could. I didn't want to unless you for sure could come.

I wanted to tell her so bad, tell her how my best friend (well, besides Alice) has abandoned me over the course of the past four months. I used to tell Renee everything. I still do, most of the time. I just don't tell her about you. I wanted her to sympathize with me and just take the weight of my sadness off my shoulders for a while.

I didn't. I couldn't, really. It would just make me seem sneaky to confess that I'd wanted to invite you over and never informed her. Also, I didn't (and still don't) want her to think any ill of you. I don't know why I do, especially after everything that you've done to me. It's the same twisted reasoning as to why I still want your friendship. I think back to the guy I knew and loved last fall and winter and hope that maybe, just maybe, he could come back. Somehow, I don't think I'll get what I wish for.

I do wonder, though, what she would say if I told her. That is, if I asked yesterday if you could come over to watch a movie. I think she would say ok and not give me any crap about it. You know how it was, or at least I told you of it. She hated you. She hated the fact that you were 2 years younger than me and a guy. She would ask me why you wanted me over at his house. What would we do? Why? Oh, and my favorite was "Why doesn't he have friends his own age?" or something in that area.

This was back in August, back when we really started to become good friends, and I was starting to trust you without hesitation. You know I don't trust easily. Want to know a secret? One that shows how cautious I am? I hate it when almost anyone touches me. It could be a tap on the shoulder or wrist, or a full on hug. I hate it and I jump out of my skin almost every time. I don't know why. It's not like I was abused as a little girl or something like that. Now, I'm sure you're thinking of all the times we've hugged. Maybe you're thinking of all the times you took hugs from me, which is a lot. That's the thing about this secret. I only let a few people into my personal space willingly. Only my family and very, very close friends can break that barrier. And if they can, it's like I was never afraid at all. I _like_ to hug and just be close to them. Strange, I know, but it's the truth.

Back to Renee and last August. I was always honest with her before you. Yes, believe it or not, I can't think of a time I deliberately lied to my mom in my 18 years. Yes, I did things that I just didn't tell her of, but who doesn't do that? So, I obviously told her where I was going and who I was hanging out with. It was second nature to me. What a big mistake, Edward. I could see her face fall and her blue-gray eyes become guarded. Then would come the questions I already told you. I got so angry at her for that and we really fought for the first time. For the past four years, she would ever so often hint at the fact that I should hang out with guys, or as a guy out to the dance, or make sure I wasn't subconsciously turning a guy away who was interested in me. It was the worst senior year. She just didn't understand that guys avoid me like the plague.

Huh. That reminds me. I win. I knew you would get the memo from every other guy in the world and realize that I was diseased or something. I knew that you wouldn't want to spend time to me or even talk to me anymore.

I started lying whenever I went to your house. It was quite easy, really. I did it every time I ever hung out with you, up to last Saturday at the music festival. I would just say I was with Alice or Rose and she bought it immediately. Rose didn't mind—she even encouraged it—but Alice didn't want anything to do with it. I never got caught, though. It was better that way, really. I got to hang out with you and not fight with Renee. I hate fighting with her. As I have grown older, she has become more like a much older friend than a mother. It made me feel so terrible to see her like that, thinking that I was having a secret love affair with you or something. No matter what I said, she just wouldn't believe me. She would say things like "I think the both of you might be confused." She thought I liked you. I didn't realize that she was right all along till November.

Time out. It's 7:30 at night at I've got Facebook on a minimized window. I just pulled it up, and guess who's online, Edward? You. Yes, your little chat box at the bottom of my screen is white instead of gray and has the little green dot next to your name. You're not going to the health center to work out. And even if you did, couldn't you have gone at another time of the day, or even a completely different day? You only work for 2 hours, unlike me, who is either at school till 6 or at work till 4 every weekday. God. It's like you stab me right in the heart every time you do shit like that. It really is.

How much more of this can I take? I don't know and I don't want to find out.

Want to know the ironic thing about all this, Edward? Finally, after almost a year, I think Renee has finally accepted you as one of my friends. I know, it's shocking. Now, whenever I mention you casually, she doesn't get that look in her eyes that I hate so much and makes me feel like a 3 year-old who got slapped on the hand. She talks back casually, just like when I mention any of my other friends. Also, when I asked if I could go to the music festival with you, she didn't give me grief. She said "ok" like it was nothing at all. I want to hug her sometimes because I'm so happy that she's finally learning to trust me and you. That's kind of why I wanted to hang out at my house, to finally put the bullshit grudges my mom has against you aside so I could be friends with you freely. And I really thought it could work out.

Funny, isn't it? At last I can truthfully hang out with you, except now you want nothing to do with me. Oh, the irony of life.

Love?

BMS


	5. Saturday, July 3

**Alright, just as a forewarning, I KNOW that Bella isn't a congenital amputee (born without a hand, in this case). I looked at this chapter and the other letters and I realized that this is an important thing going on here and provides motivation for what Bella does and thinks. That would just be a pain in the ass to cut that out and I'm lazy. Also, there's a tad bit of a flashback that I really like and would hate to cut out by not including this letter. Thanks for the understanding and the ability to "go with it."**

**Also, I highly recommend The Time Traveler's Wife and I'm sorry that I semi-ruined the story if you haven't read it already. And if you haven't read Arty or Eragon yet, shame on you.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or Facebook or anything created in the real world that is mentioned in this chapter and/or any other chapter in this story.**

Saturday, July 3, 2010

Dear Edward,

Today I finished the book I was reading, _The Time Traveler's Wife_. I loved the plotline and it was beautifully written. I would recommend it to you, but I think it might be too emotional and sappy, even for you. But even if I did tell you to read it sometime, would you? You did pick up _Artemis Fowl _last summer, but that was almost a year ago. The other two books I suggested, you never picked up, no matter how many times I mentioned them to you. So no, I don't think you would. So I won't even bother.

Though I can definitely put the book in the high-esteemed category of my all-time favorites, there was one thing that really did bother me about it. Luckily, it was towards the very end that it happened, so it didn't completely ruin the book.

See, one of the two main characters, Henry, time travels unwillingly and most of the time it's in unsavory situations. Once he traveled to a parking lot in the middle of the night in January and couldn't find any clothes or a warm place to take refuge (only his _body _time travels, if you know what I mean). He ended up getting frostbite in his feet. When he went back to his present, he had to have his feet amputated. Now, though you may disagree with my assertion, I am not completely heartless. I couldn't imagine losing my feet. How awful, especially for Henry, who loved running. He was confined to a wheelchair.

But that's what confused me. It's not like he lost his legs! There are prosthetics to substitute feet, even legs. There was no reason for him to be stuck in a wheelchair, never to run or walk again. That frustrated me to no end. With a little trip to the hospital, he could have been fitted and that would be the end of it. Don't get me wrong, Edward. The character had every right to be distraught. I am just glad that this episode was not a major event in the story.

That got me thinking about myself. I've never had a prosthetic. What good would that do for me, anyway? I'm not like Henry who lost his feet, which really are only good for providing a surface to distribute our body weight so we can stand straight. I remember reading _Eragon_ and experiencing the same frustration. At the end of the book, Eragon gets a blow to his back and recovers, but has a big ropy scar down his torso. And then what does he do? He whines and complains that he is a "cripple." My thirteen year-old self was ready to throw the book across the room, I was so angry.

I'm not complaining, Edward, I'm really not. I'm fine with being a congenital amputee. I know no different. There are so many people who have it worse than me. I consider myself lucky. But there's always that time when I look at pictures or in the mirror and I think "God, do I really look that strange?" Sometimes I don't blame people for discriminating against me. Do you remember the first week of school when I told you about the guy in bio who freaked out when he noticed my left hand and then wouldn't talk to me? And I never told you, but this girl on the first floor of my dorm would never fail to stare whenever I walked past her. Every time, it still hurts. I don't really care about not having two hands; I just want to look normal. That's what makes me love the beautiful people in my life. They forget that I'm challenged. You would forget, too. I remember telling you about the guy in biology and you got so pissed off about it. And I loved you for that.

Today Renee was talking to me and Emmett about babies and grandchildren, God have mercy on me. She was telling us that we should marry people with the blond hair gene so that she can have blond grandchildren (she is blond and blue-eyed, so we obviously have the genes to pass it on). Yeah, right. She'll be lucky if I get married, at the rate I'm going. But anyway, I became a little irked at her preference. I was never blond nor blue-eyed. I pointed this out and she quickly recovered, saying that perhaps it was cuter for boys to have blond hair rather than girls. Thanks for the bullshit. She also said that since I was her first child, she didn't know any different and just loved me for the baby I was. I was still miffed. I know that she loves me, but my physical appearance is always a factor to me. Emmett and I look nothing like my extended family, being brown haired and brown eyed rather than blond and blue eyed.

But then, when we were at Costello's waiting for our food, she mentioned something else. She explained that with children, you love them no matter what, even if they were dark haired with a little hand and a big ropy scar across their scalp. I almost forgot about the scar, hidden behind my hair as always, but I remember my parents telling me that I was fairly bald for the first year or so of my life. And my scar, in the shape of a "C" is quite large. But that's not the point of this story. When she mentioned my hand, she took it in her own, her fingers more than long enough to completely envelop the stub. My own hand can't do that, it's so small.

I remember at your house aligning our hands to compare sizes. That was another time you forgot, when you originally put your right hand up when I clearly couldn't use my left. What would be the point? It's not even a normal hand! But then you remembered and when you switched, and we pressed our palms together, I was shocked! Your hands, were also so much larger than mine, even ignoring the fact that you're a good eight inches taller than me on top of being a guy. I don't think I even was close to my fingertips being long enough to touch your last knuckle! I felt so small, even smaller than normal when I'm around you.

I digress again, but it's what I do, you know that. I can never tell a short story, as proven by these letters. Because that's what this really is. A story.

When Renee held my hand, it felt so nice. I don't know why, but I love the very few times when someone will hold my left hand. It makes me feel loved. Yes, it feels strange, knowing that it's not all that natural for a hand to completely be enveloped by another, but it's a good kind of strange. I think it's because while I get hugged and all, no one holds my hand. That part gets quite ignored. Otherwise, I have no idea why I like it so much. I decided a long time ago that if I ever get a boyfriend, he would love my little hand the most and want to hold it even more than my right hand. Yes, that would be the sign for if the right guy comes along. Because I know that it looks strange and wrong, but it's just some skin. It's only a ball of flesh with a half-developed useless wrist, some tiny stubs for fingers and two nails.

Sometimes I wonder how it feels for other people when I touch them with my left hand. How does it feel, Edward? I really have thought about it. Does it feel as weird when someone holds my hand? Do you get freaked out? I remember one time when I held Angela's face with my hands last December to emphasize something to her that I don't even remember. I immediately regretted it. Seeing and touching are two completely different things to grow accustomed to. She didn't say anything or jump, if my memory serves me correctly. But you never know what people are truly thinking….

What are you thinking, Edward? Were you ever wary because of my appearance? What _was_ your original opinion of me back in January of 2009? Do you think that all of this talk of missing limbs is just a waste of time, energy, paper, and ink? Do you think I'm crazy? Sometimes I do. There are many facets to that opinion of my own sanity, all of which will have to be explained some other day.

Love?

BMS

P.S. It's past eight right now and I saw the pictures of you from a parade with the orchestra you play in. It confirmed my suspicions that I was wrong. You still are the dorky funny guy I knew and loved. The problem is that you're someone else when I'm around. Why can't you be the same for me? What did I do wrong?

P.P.S. I watched Good Will Hunting with Renee tonight. You should watch it if you haven't seen it already. If we were still talking to each other, I would suggest it for a movie night. I think you would like it.

P.P.P.S. I miss you. A lot.


	6. Sunday, July 4

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or Facebook or anything created in the real world that is mentioned in this chapter and/or any other chapter in this story.**

Sunday, July 4, 2010

Dear Edward,

Happy 4th of July! Last year I remember you wrote on my wall in all caps wishing me a happy 4th. Today you did nothing of the sort. No, we still have not spoken or communicated in any way since Thursday. I can't believe that was only 3 days ago. God, I am pathetic. It just goes to show that I really am too reliant on you. I miss you so much. And yes, I still love you. But I can't give in and apologize or even talk to you because that just makes it seem like you were fine by blowing me off like that. I can't do it this time, no matter how much it hurts. And what makes me feel even worse is that I know that it doesn't mean anything to you.

Today I went to the Taste of Seattle with Alice, mainly to go see Passion Pit. You wouldn't like them—their style is a tad bizarre, but they're also pretty mellow. I like them because of their heavy use of the synthesizer. I am a sucker for synth, I know. It was terribly hot out, but we stayed in one of the few shady places there and just talked. Don't get me wrong, we still ate. I got toasted cheese ravioli, cheesecake and Italian ice and Alice got some pork banana dumpling, cheesecake, and Italian ice. The cheesecake really did us in. It was huge! But so very delicious and worth the 6 tickets.

But most of the time we just sat and talked. I like doing that, just talking about life with my friends. We used to do that, remember? Anyway, we discussed her relationship with her boyfriend and our money problems and our parents' rules and how annoying they all were. We also talked about you, Edward. Yes, Alice knows everything. She's my best friend, what do you expect? She put up with every time I broke down over you and just tried to comfort me when my other best friend and rock went away. I missed you so much it hurt. I miss you so much it hurts.

Remember when I told you I had something for you? And we agreed to meet a few weeks ago so I could give it to you? Yeah, but then you "forgot" that you had to play at the high school's graduation and you "forgot" to tell me that. So I felt like a played fool at your door, but no one was home. Thanks so much.

But then I asked you when you wanted it. Do you remember what you said? Oh, right. Nothing. And I had it with me all this time, until today. Today I finally threw it out at the Taste. You know what it was, Edward? It was a letter, pretty much the abridged (and censored) version of all these letters I have written and will write to you. Don't worry, everything I said there will be said in these letters eventually. The bottom line was that I missed you and wish that we could still be close friends like we were before, which is my point here. I've been losing you, Edward. Perhaps I've already lost you. Perhaps I lost you a long time ago. Anyways, Alice asked if she could read it, so I let her. And yes, she has been listening to me all these months, but I don't think she really understood it until she read the pencil handwritten letter that I had all folded and slightly crumpled in my purse. I felt kind of bad because she was sad for a while after that. But that's how I feel all the time.

I remember as we were waiting in line for Alice to get her dumpling, I was pilfering through the side zipper of my purse to make sure I had my house keys and CTA card still with me when I spotted two things you had given me: a pair of earplugs and your Christmas present to me. Do you remember these things, Edward? The yellow earplugs you gave me last summer when you played your new musical project, the electric bass for me. You said I needed them and boy, were you right. You told me to keep them for if I ever went to concerts when I was away at school. I took them with me, but I never used them, except when I went to concerts when I returned home. I made extra certain that I never lost one, they were that dear to me. I don't know why, they just were.

As for the Christmas present, I'm sure you remember. It was a little pin of a piano. I thought it was adorable. You know where its home was? Right on my blue winter pea coat, top right flap of the collar. It matched very well, I may add. It belonged there and always reminded me of you. I loved it. I had to hide it in my purse, however, whenever I came home. I didn't want my parents asking questions. And I just kept it in my purse as the seasons changed and I left my winter coat at home. I pulled it out of the pocket and showed it to Alice and asked her if I should put it back on my coat when winter comes again. She told me that I should definitely keep it, if not put it back when the cold weather returns. I don't know if I can. It reminds me of you too much. After looking at it again, I stuffed it back in the purse pocket for safekeeping.

Despite the letter and the pin revisits, I had a great time with Alice. I can spend any amount of time anywhere and have fun with her. It was the same for you, too, when we used to hang out a lot. Exactly the same. I just loved spending time with you.

The concert was so much fun. Yes, we were a mile away in the lawn (apparently you need tickets to get a seat now, which was not so two years ago when I went to see Plain White T's with Alice and Rosalie) but everyone was happy to be there and dancing around and letting the good weather and the spirit of summer make them carefree. And it made me carefree, too. I forgot about you and summer school and work and just danced to the music like everyone else. I needed that.

Unfortunately, it all came crashing down tonight after fireworks, which I still cover my ears for. If I recall, you don't like them, either. When I was little it was like an obstacle that I had to overcome before I could get to my birthday. I remember last year you said you sat by the tennis courts. Me and my family sat in the field on the south side of Main Street, as always. But afterward, all I could think about was you and how much it hurt to know that you didn't want to talk to me. See, Edward, no matter how angry I get at you, I still want to be your friend. Screwy, isn't it? I think the correct term is unconditional love. I have that for only very few people, now that I think about it.

But I get so scared, Edward. I'm scared to talk to you. I believe we already went through this. I just get so nervous. I wish I didn't. So, I won't talk to you first out of stubbornness and fear. Though I have wondered if we will keep this up to all the way to when you leave. I sure as hell hope not because then I don't know if I could see you until I come home in October for fall break. I don't think I would be able to deal with that.

Angela saw my status tonight and asked me about it. You know what it says? Did you see? It says that I miss my "freshie friend." Because I do. A ton. It's a problem, I know. And then I just went on memory overload and told her everything from the past that I had been thinking of. Don't worry, I'll tell you eventually. There were a lot of things she didn't know of that went on between us. She didn't realize that we actually spent time together and didn't just keep a strictly digital friendship. And then guess what she said to me. She told me something like "God, I wish I had something like what you had." That made me feel so grateful for you when you were my best friend. I am lucky to have spent those times with you. It made me so happy, despite the sneaking around and shit like that. But I'm selfish, Edward. I want it back. Why did it go away? What did I do wrong so I can fix it?

Love?

BMS

**In case you guys were wondering, I still have that pin, though it is not of a piano. I decided not to wear it this winter and instead kept it safe in the side compartment of my purse.**

**Also, this is the last chapter that is serving as a test run. If you like it, review or favorite or alert it. That way I know and will continue to edit the letters/chapters for you guys. There are about 30 or so of them, but not all are finished, so those might take a while to do. Thanks for reading if you made it this far and let me know if you want this continued.**

**-Loie**


	7. Monday, July 5

**So, I have decided that I might as well keep it up. It doesn't take too long to edit a letter and it's a great way to procrastinate.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or Facebook or anything created in the real world that is mentioned in this chapter and/or any other chapter in this story.**

Monday, July 5, 2010

Dear Edward,

Flashback:

About a week after I left for school, we got in a sort of fight. Ok, I take that back. I just got really angry at you. Do you remember this? This was when you were obsessed with Jessica Stanley. All you would do was talk about her. My friend. You wanted to meet her, and you knew exactly how to do it: through me. Oh yes, I was the key to your love bliss. Through me, you could meet the pretty and petite brunette who was not only that, but a beautiful singer. God, what had I gotten myself into? I asked myself that a lot.

If you remember, the only reason you even knew she existed was because I took you to the Taste of Seattle with me last year. Jessica's music school was doing a show that I wanted to watch and support my friend. So I took you and Alice with. And I rue the day I asked you. Why? You fell for her, just because she was pretty and sang well.

Yes, Edward, I am well aware that she is beautiful. And you fell for that like any other teenage boy. You didn't even know her, but you couldn't stop talking about her. Yes, she is a nice girl. I love her very much. Any guy would be lucky to be with her. And yes, you are a great guy and any girl would be a damn lucky bitch to be with you.

But not my friend. I couldn't handle that. I did the best I could, though. I listened to you and did my best to keep the snide remarks to myself. I hated it when you talked about her. Absolutely loathed it. I wanted to scream and shout and knock you back into your senses. You were never going to get to really know her. You would not end up together. Never ever. I tried to subtly tell you this, but you wouldn't listen. You just mourned over the fact that you were just a lowly boy and she was like some goddess. I wished you would get over it, but not just for selfish reasons. I could tell that you were really strung up about her. It made you sad, so it made me even sadder. I just wished that the whole nightmare would end.

Which brings me back to the "fight." Why do you think I got so angry at you, Edward? You talked about her all the time. To me. A girl. Her friend. How do you think that made me feel? I'll tell you, pretty damn lousy. I couldn't help comparing myself to Jessica all the time. What did she have that I didn't? I had so many answers for that. She was stunning and thinner and cuter than me. She was smarter than me, too. She's funny and caring and did I mention pretty? She's a beauty where I am just a plain Jane. Really, I saw that there was really no competition and it just bummed me out. You talked about her all the time and each occasion took another hit to my self-esteem.

Then, one day, I cracked. I couldn't take it anymore. I don't remember any direct quotes, but I told you what I was thinking-for the most part-every time you mentioned Jessica. I felt used, Edward. It was like all you wanted from me was to get Jessica to talk to you. You didn't want to talk to me in order to talk to me. You saw a means to live your teenage boy fantasy. And I told you that. I was literally shaking with fear and sadness and anger when I typed it out. It took twice as long to press all the right keys on the computer. And then I logged off as fast as I could. Oh, I was so angry. I finally let it out. Most of it was sadness, but as I have told you before, sadness and anger tend to morph together into something much uglier for me.

And so I refused to talk to you. I remember purposely avoiding Facebook so you couldn't chat with me. But here's the twist in this story: you were such a sweetheart, you sent me messages apologizing for everything I accused you of. I looked and I still have them in my account. I believe there are 4 separate messages, a couple with more than one entry. And in these messages, you admitted that I was right and you were worried that you were turning into a bad person, which you weren't, of course. You were still my sweet friend Edward. You even sent me Youtube links for songs to try and convey your remorse.

Do you remember how long I lasted before I broke down and talked to you again? Three days. I know, pathetic. But I couldn't stay mad at you, just like I can't stay mad at you now. You were so sorry back then and I couldn't help but forgive you. And we started talking again and things were back to normal by the end of the week.

I fear so much that this bout of silence we are experiencing will not have the same outcome. Let me just say this now so it is out in the open: if I push you away, I always want you to come back. Always. I can't explain it. I'm afraid it's just one of those freaky girl things that I can't really help. I am so afraid that we will never speak again. I think I will wait and see what happens until Thursday. If nothing happens, which is what I am sure will happen, then I have to think of a plan of action. I don't want to lose you, Edward. Can't you see that?

Right now I want to talk to you so bad, but I am afraid. Maybe I shouldn't wait till Thursday. I was a total creeper and looked online which elementary school you work at. I have one letter, the abridged version, that I could give to you. I think I'm going to try to catch you tomorrow and just give you the letter and leave. Yes, I think I shall do that. But I will stop now because it is late and I am tired.

Love?

BMS


	8. Tuesday, July 6

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or Facebook or anything created in the real world that is mentioned in this chapter and/or any other chapter in this story.**

Tuesday, July 6, 2010

Dear Edward,

Well, I did it. I was so nervous, I can't believe that I didn't just keep riding on. It was like I was possessed for those five seconds that I told you to stop. I was riding my bike north on Ashland, and there you were, riding your bike on the other side of the street in your dorky white helmet. Without thinking, I smiled back at your own grin of recognition and told you to stop and wait a moment. I made a U-turn to come up beside you on the other side of the street. And then I came back to myself. Did you notice that I didn't—and couldn't—meet your gaze? Granted, I was wearing my sunglasses the whole time, but my head wasn't even turned towards you. It must have been obvious. I looked straight at the ground. I know I didn't once look into your eyes besides when I first saw you. Butterflies were fluttering in my stomach and up my throat. The blood drained from my hands and rushed up to my already sweaty and red face. I told you I don't have much time, my backpack was heavy and digging into my shoulders, and let me see your hand, please, I have something for you. My voice stuttered so much, though, I'm not sure if you could have actually heard everything. I reached into my pocket for that slip of lined loose-leaf paper folded carefully into a small rectangle and put it into your sweaty palm. Before you could have the chance to look at what I had given you, I took off. You asked where I was going once you saw me sit back on my bicycle seat and prepare to push off and I told you back to the library for a day of orgo hell, which was every bit of the truth. I sped down the street and turned at the end of the block on Chicago before you could stop me. I didn't look back. I was afraid of what I might have seen.

I did it! Wow! I can't believe it still. Sure, it was slightly more nervous and flustered than I had rehearsed last night and this morning, but I got the jist of it. No one is ever as cool and collected as they anticipate. I'm just glad I didn't chicken out halfway through. You have no idea how nervous I was.

But I wonder now? What did you do after I sped off? Did you read my letter right away? Did you put it in your pocket and save it for later? Or did you never even read it? I can only imagine. It could go any way. I'm leaning to the first two. Your curiosity is too great for you to not at least open it. Now, as to if you actually read the whole thing, that's a different story. I don't know about that one. I can't even guess because I have no idea who you are anymore. As I said before, what happened to my favorite 16 year-old?

I have a good guess, but that shall wait for another day.

I told Alice and Rosalie about what I did today. They couldn't believe it, but in a good way. Alice said it was like something out of a movie. I laughed at that, for I was not nearly as graceful as any actress portraying a fearful girl. Rose was amazed at the kind of courage I exampled. Believe me, Edward, I was scared shitless, but something came over me, like an adrenalin rush to make me not afraid anymore. It was either fight or flight, and I chose to fight the situation at hand. Rose and I talked for a while about it. No, he did not talk to me. No, no texts or Facebook messages, and of course no calls, Rose, he hasn't called me in months. I can't even remember the last time you called me, Edward. God, that's really sad.

So, the ball is in your court, Edward. And what a relief it is. I thought the letter was quite nice, very non-accusing and it was literally straight from my heart. So is this, but this is uncensored and much more detailed. Alice was very impressed when she read it, which I had saved as an email draft. I told you nearly everything and now you must decide what to do with it. I don't think I can do anything more to save our friendship.

But I know you won't do anything. Will you throw out the letter? Yes, you will. I'm sure it's in your trash already, perhaps even torn up in shreds so no one can fish it out and read it. Why? Because they will see what you have done to my heart and blame you. Maybe then you would feel some remorse. I almost hope that Esme or Carlisle ask about me and what I'm up to. How come they haven't seen me around lately? I can only imagine the answer you would give them: a shrug and a "I dunno."

It is very late at night—well, technically early in the morning—and I must get sleep. This letter is a tad short, but I will make up for it in time. Just you wait, Henry Higgins, just you wait. I have an orgo test tomorrow. Wish me luck, though I know you won't.

Love?

BMS

**OK a litte info about any references here: Bella is 18, soon to be 19 and going into her sophomore year of college, and Edward is 17, going into his senior year of high school. Just in case you guys were confused. They met when Bella was a senior and Edward was a soph. Also, orgo is slang for organic chemistry, aka the evilest subject known to man. **


	9. Thursday, July 8

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or Facebook or anything created in the real world that is mentioned in this chapter and/or any other chapter in this story.**

Thursday, July 8, 2010

Dear Edward,

I skipped a day because I was gone from 7 AM to 11 PM and didn't have a chance to go to bed till after 12:30. So, this letter will be extra long to make up for lost time. Also, I just have more things to say. So, here we go.

I went to a concert last night. I mentioned it to you a long time ago. All Street and Hum it Noisy were playing at Metro. I had been there a few times before last night, but when I walked in, I couldn't help thinking of the fact that you were in the very same building less than 2 weeks ago. I always thought it would be fun to go to a concert with you. Not the one in the basement of Quaker Church, that doesn't count. A real concert. It would have been cool to take you to see Rock Bottom since you like some of their songs a lot. That would be a nice Christmas or birthday present. I have a feeling that I won't ever be giving it to you, though.

I had such a great time with my friends. It was just like we were 16 or 17 again. It's funny how things work out like that. As of two days ago, I was still miffed at Alice and Rose for failing to come to my house that one Friday night. They didn't even bother to tell me until the day of. But then when we all met up, it was like nothing bad had ever happened. We were laughing and teasing each other and throwing sarcasm left and right. We were back to normal automatically. Things were so good that I couldn't help but forgive and forget immediately.

I did that for you, too. When I saw you on Tuesday and you smiled at me, I couldn't help but smile back. But then I felt the weight of the paper in my pocket and knew that it had to be done. Hell, I didn't bike a mile with 2 textbooks and a laptop in my backpack for nothing.

During the concert, I thought of you, of course. But I have to admit that it took me longer to think of you than normal. I consider that a step in the right direction, especially since you still haven't talked to me in any way, shape, or form since Tuesday. Granted, it is only Thursday night, but still. You aren't going to say or do anything. You're just going to leave me.

I'm trying to come to terms with that, Edward. I couldn't help but think about it when All Street played "Between You and I" during their encore. One of the lines is "Maybe we'll find something better, but the lovers that leave us will always hold a place." I know we never were anything more than just friends, but I loved you, both platonically and romantically. And those lyrics could be just as valid if it said friends instead of lovers. I know you don't want to talk to me. If you did, then you would have. It's as simple as that. But no matter what, Edward, you'll always hold a place in my heart. I'll always wish that none of this shit had ever happened and things were like they were a year ago. I'll always love you.

Thank God that it was dark in that venue because my eyes definitely got watery as I thought these things during the song. Me, Alice, and Rose all linked arms and swayed back and forth to the music.

As I said before, I'm trying to take steps forward and not be sad about you abandoning me. I don't want to be sad anymore. I've been sad since February when this all started. My first steps were last night. Alice and I were in the pit during All Street and wound up right in the center of it all. It was quite the convenient location, for more reasons than just being right in front of everything. I somehow got myself right in front of this guy who knew every song the band played and looked to be my age (the average age is probably 16). On top of that, he was very tall and quite the attractive boy with dark hair and light skin and eyes. He also never pushed or shoved, though physical contact was unavoidable and frequent. I may be anal about random people touching me in normal situations, but a concert is not normal. The point of this all is that I wanted to talk to him. Yes, I wanted to talk to a guy and flirt and at least learn his name. I have never done that before. I didn't end up talking to him, but I should have, just for the hell of it.

That was step number one. Pretty big, huh? I sure thought so. Yes, you were in the back of my mind during the concert, but I finally started to think about other boys.

Step number two was while I was talking to Alice later that night. It was a hard night. I was so happy earlier at Metro. All that was going through my brain, really, was the music that blasted so powerfully from the speakers that it rattled my heart. But when I came home….and you hadn't communicated in any way….it was another blow. Every day is another blow. Alice has been there for me every step of the way. She's becoming my rock like you were last year. But that doesn't change the way I miss you, Edward. I still want you. Alice—or any friend, for that matter—could never replace you.

I confessed to her that I loved you. I really, really loved you. And you know what she said? It was harsh, and she warned me that it would be, but I'm glad she did. She said that it doesn't matter. It doesn't change things no matter how much I love you. Alice was right. She also told me that it will only hurt myself. She once had a falling out with a guy friend, so she can sympathize. Alice also mentioned that it would be painful and I would cry a lot, and it would take a lot of time, for it took her a year. A year. Can you believe that? Yes, I have already cried and cried—like last night—and I'm sure I will cry some more (I'll let you know when it occurs), but I don't want to be like this for a whole year. I'm in college, dammit! These are supposed to be the best years of my life.

So I figured I had to start making progress. You are not coming back to me. You might as well be dead.

I have a confession to make: You know how in Facebook chat, there's a box at the bottom righthand corner that when you click on it, a whole list of people who are online shows up? And then, if you click on a person's name, another little box pops up with the person's name, but also revealing an IM box above it. Then you can type back and forth till you get carpal tunnel. Well, you can minimize this chat box, just like you can minimize the list. You can also close the chat box. I never closed three chat boxes: Alice's, Rose's, and yours. Why? I talked to you three the most. It was so much easier to glance down to the bottom of my screen to see if the dot beside your name was green, white, or dark gray. I remember the days when offline meant red, which makes so much more sense, but that's not the point.

The point is that I closed out your box. Now, there are only two at the bottom of my screen. Already I am noticing how I look down automatically for your name and the green dot I long to see next to it, only to remember what happened. I considered a couple times putting you back, but I realized that that would be a step in the wrong direction. Backwards. A relapse. And I can't afford any more relapses, Edward. I don't want them, I've had enough relapsing with you to last me more than a lifetime. I want to get better and move on.

Huh. Relapse. I remember you asking me once or twice about statuses of mine that would say things about relapses. You would either ask me straight outright what was wrong (which I lied, of course) or tell me that you understood, that relapses were no fun, and I hope you feel better, my dear friend. (Am I your "dear friend" now, Edward?) Just guess what my relapses-evver so painful every time-were about. Just guess.

Love?

BMS

**Brownie points for anyone who can figure out the real names of the bands mentioned. Their names are altered so they are synonyms of the real ones. Oh, and I don't own "Between You And I," but you guys should go listen to it cuz it's wonderfully tragic. Also, reviews = love.**


	10. Friday, July 9

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or Facebook or anything created in the real world that is mentioned in this chapter and/or any other chapter in this story.**

Friday, July 9, 2010

Dear Edward,

Flashback:

Early November, 2009. We were Facebook chatting, as usual. I don't know how this came up in the topic of conversation and I'm not going to pretend. That's why I don't use direct quotes, Edward. I don't want to say anything that I'm not sure actually happened or was said. That would be unfair.

Anyway, I got you to spit out a secret of yours that you had apparently been hiding from me for a week. I was quite impressed that you were able to do that, actually. You would tell me _everything_, Edward, and I mean everything. And even if you didn't want to tell me, it was only a matter of minutes of a little coaxing before you spilled the beans. It was so easy. Now, I can't get you to even say hi to me. My, how times can change.

But I digress yet again. Remember what you did that you didn't want me to know? You tried a cigarette. Holy fucking shit. You tried a cigarette. I couldn't believe it. You, Edward, my friend, smoked a cigarette. I remember you warning me that I would get so angry at you. But I didn't. I was hurt more than anything. Why? Because you promised. You promised me on that last day before I left for school that you would never do that shit. I made you promise because you were telling me how all your friends were doing stupid shit like that. And don't get me wrong, I know you know what's right and wrong, good and bad, but I just had this feeling way back in August. So I made you promise me that you wouldn't give in to peer pressure and do stupid shit like that.

But you did. And I felt so hurt. Because you broke your promise.

Then you started to explain what really happened. You told me how you had said "No" so many times before that this time you just did it. But then you know what you told me what happened next? Do you remember? Honestly, I think now you would deny ever having such thoughts in your mind.

You told me that you took one drag and you thought of me. No, not your mom or dad or anyone else. You thought of me, your little friend who was hundreds of miles away at college, whom you haven't seen in almost three months. Just the thought of me was enough for you to throw the cigarette on the ground and run. I was so touched that I almost forgot about the disappointment, but not quite. And believe me, I let you know how you made me feel about it all (except anything about the pleasure of being in your thoughts, that is) and I made sure you felt guilty. I did it so you would never smoke again, but though you did feel sorry because I gave you grief, that was not the reason you really vowed to never pick up any kind of smoking device again.

Ah, now I remember how this came up and how I got you to confess to this cigarette ordeal. You were worried that you had cancer in your mouth. You said you had a white sore on the inside of your cheek that appeared right after you tried the cigarette and wouldn't go away. I have to admit, I was a tad self-satisfied that karma had come to get you. No, I never thought it was cancer, but I humored you by listening every time you mentioned it, which was multiple times a day till practically Thanksgiving break. I just thought it was a burn mark or something, though you probably would have felt it burning your skin if it was. Okay, so maybe the true cause of this sore that you had (have? I don't even know if you still have it. You did as of March) is still unknown, but I didn't think it was cancerous. Sixteen year old guys don't get cancer. Well, some do, but not the ones in my life. It's not allowed.

But I just listened and tried to comfort you while you fretted about the length of your life. You were so regretful of trying that cigarette because you were convinced that it did something bad to you. At times you would act like you were on your deathbed and practically giving me your will. Do you remember what you told me? I do. You said that your upright piano went to Jessica Stanley (you can imagine how pleased I was with that after my explanation from a few days ago) and your grand piano went to me. Would you give them to me now, Edward? God forbid that you died? I don't think so.

One day—maybe it was more than one occurrence, I don't remember—you asked me what I would do if you really did have cancer and were going to die. I really hope you remembered this response, Edward, because I was deathly serious. I told you that I would finish out the semester at State and get into a community college back home so I could spend time with you. I knew that my parents would have never let me do that, but if I had the choice, I would have done it. I told you that you weren't allowed to have cancer and die because you were my best friend and I didn't know what I would do if I lost you. And if you would die before then, I would have taken time off from school to be with you. I really would have, Edward. I really would have done everything I told you.

But I lost you anyway. Not from cancer, but from something else. Why did I lose you, Edward? That's all I really want to know. Why do you not want to be friends? What did I do?

Back to my point, because every flashback has a tie to the present. What if I have cancer? What would you do? I'm asking you this not because I'm sick or anything, but I've been in pain somewhere that is not particularly normal for me for the past two days. I told my mom and she said to check for lumps in the shower, but maybe it's because I'm nearing that time of the month. I don't know. All I know is that it's painful and abnormal. Renee says I should go to the doctor next week if it keeps up. But what if there really is something wrong with me? What if I got terribly sick? Well, I don't think I would tell you. I mean, how awkward would it be to talk to you out of the blue and say "Oh, hi Edward. I just wanted to tell you, I was diagnosed with XYZ." No. It won't happen. I don't want your pity friendship.

Maybe my other friends would tell you, like Alice or Rose. They might, especially if they asked if I let you know and I told them. What would you do then? Would you talk to me then? I don't think you would. No, you would just keep living your life like you had never known me, never talked to me, never hugged me or held me….but I digress yet again.

Then I got to thinking, what if I died? What would you do then? Who would tell you? I'm sure Alice would. She knows how much you mean to me. She would make sure to spread the word. Would you feel sad? Would you cry? You are very emotional, but at the same time you can choose to be so emotionless, if that makes any sense. It's like you can turn it on and off like flipping a switch for a light. You've had the switch turned off since March, since that one night. But that's another story for another day.

I think you would come to my funeral, but you wouldn't stay for very long. That or you would flirt with all my choir friends. But that's okay because I would be dead and never know. I kind of hope you feel bad. I hope that you regret ignoring me and not speaking to me.

And I do hope you cry. I hope you cry like you told me you were crying when I told you my thoughts over winter break. When I told you that I didn't want to live anymore, that I had it planned out when I went back to school to take more Tylenol than what was a healthy dose and just hopefully die a nice and peaceful death. Do you remember this, Edward? You freaked out and typed back that I couldn't do that. You told me how I was your best friend and I couldn't leave you. You told me "You have changed me, woman." Yes, that is a direct quote because I remembered it word-for-word. That's what made me stop thinking about ending my life. You were the reason. But yes, if I die, I hope you feel sorry that you made my nightmares come true. Nightmares that will be explained later because they also are another story for another day.

Love?

BMS

**...And this is when we really start to see the extent of Bella's insanity, in case you haven't noticed it yet. Admit it, guys, she is kind of off her rocker. That's why the writing is choppy and random, aka not my usual style. But don't hate on Bella and don't tell me that you've never felt this way before, either. **


	11. Saturday, July 10

Saturday, July 10, 2010

Dear Edward,

I am reading a new book. It is a historical fantasy set in ancient Ireland. Renee thinks it's a bit strange, but I am really enjoying it. But that's the danger for me. Most of the time, once I start a book I can't stop until it's finished. I just keep reading and reading, eager to know what comes next, unwilling to leave that world to get thrown back into my own.

That's one of the main reasons why I read, you know. It's not to improve my vocabulary or learn up on the ways of the world. No, I enjoy science fiction and fantasy the most of all genres of literature. Why? Because their worlds are so much different from mine. I can get lost in another place, another time for a few hours for a few days. I love it. I'm a spectator of something grander than anything I could participate in. When I read, I don't see words on paper. I see the scene before me, I hear the characters' voices. It's amazing. Sometimes, if you want to get me to come back to reality, you have to yell at me because I'm so immersed in my book.

In case you haven't figured out, I'm an escapist. I read to escape my own reality. I've been doing that a lot lately. I constantly feel this compulsion to pick up my book and continue reading, just so I don't have to face the dreadful prospects of chemistry mid-terms and lab reports, of work for Mrs. Teggart, and of course, of you. I read so I can forget that you don't want to talk to me or have anything to do with me. I read so that I can forget that my heart aches whenever I think about you. I read so that I can forget you. For like I said, when I read, I forget about my reality. I am in the fantasy world that the author has created for me, only concerned about the characters' worries.

I read about girls who are strong and fight through the forces of magic and life that are against them. And they draw upon the last drop of courage that they can muster and prevail. Not only that, but sometimes they find love and friendship in the most unusual of places. I can believe this, for I found you in the most unlikely of situations.

This, of course, becomes problematic when reality catches up with you. For example, my test for orgo lab is on Monday and I have yet to start studying. I haven't started my work for Mrs. Teggart, either. But you, Edward, can somehow be avoided. You can't catch up with me because you don't chase me. And the irony of this is that I do want you to catch up with me. Escapism is only a temporary solution to a much bigger problem. I want you to rip me back into my reality with you. Then maybe things could go back to the way they were before.

But it won't happen. I know that already. I'm not stupid. Just wishful.

Unfortunately, I can't escape you completely with this book that I'm reading. One of the main characters has some of the same quirks as you do, Edward. You may not know that you do this, but I have noticed over the past year or so that I've known you. This character shrugs his shoulders whenever he doesn't want to talk about something. You do that all the time. It was never a gesture that said _back-the-fuck-off_, but I knew that you just didn't want to talk about whatever I was asking. It really did suck reading that little detail over and over again in the book because I would think of you. What was worse, he and the main character ended up falling for each other. I just made me wish that maybe we could have been like that.

Oh, and another thing he did. He would say "any time." Ugh, that broke my heart. You would tell me that all the time. Whenever you did something nice for me, be it a compliment or just helping me get through a tough day, I'd say "thanks" and you'd say "anytime." It was always one word, though, never two. I never really knew the implication of the word. I often have wondered what you meant by that. Was it a _yeah-whatever _response, or was it a _I-would-do-it-again-in-a-heartbeat-because-you're-my-friend_ response? Sometimes I think it morphed from the latter to the former as time went on after that pivotal event occurred in February.

But that is a story for another day. Till next time, Edward. Sorry this was a short one.

Love?

BMS


	12. Monday, July 12

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or Facebook or anything created in the real world that is mentioned in this chapter and/or any other chapter in this story.**

Monday, July 12, 2010

Dear Edward,

Because I have nothing better to write about:

Flashback:

November 25, 2009. It was the first day I was back from college. And, of course, I had a movie night with you. What were we watching? _Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King_. It was part of your master plan, of course. You had insisted time and time again that those three movies were the best of all time and that I had to watch them. So, you devised a plan: we watch every movie together, one per time I came home. (Can you believe it? I got to come home only three times, though the first two we made the most of our short days together.) That night kicked off the trilogy of visits home and LOTR.

Holy bejeezus, I was so excited to see you. Three months was such a long time! Sure, we had talked literally every day for probably two hours per day, but I grew to realize very soon that nothing was like hanging out in person. I remember my heat thudding hard in my chest as I rang your doorbell and there you were, just as you looked when I last saw you three months beforehand. I'm pretty sure you wore my favorite shirt of yours, which was your green plaid one. Dear Lord, you always looked good in that shirt. Damn. You wore a crooked smile that I always found endearing as you said "Hey" and you stepped onto the porch to bend down and hug me. God, it was so nice to do that again.

And that was the first encounter I had with you that Thanksgiving break. Later that night, on the couch in your basement with that god-awful pillow between us, you mentioned that it was our first time hanging out at night. I tried to be sarcastic about it with a dramatic "Ooh!" but my heart trilled inside. Just the fact that it was at night made me antsy and nervous, but in a good way.

We watched the movie, me completely lost and asking what I'm sure you thought were stupid questions. The whole time I thought we were the most awkward pair in the world, sitting alone in your basement on a big couch with the damn huge pillow taking up any free space between us. We were literally wedged in the corners, confined by the pillow and the armrests. I hated that pillow. But it was a good movie, I had to admit. It was just a tad confusing. You had obviously watched it many times because you just spitted out the characters' names like it was nothing and pointed out little details in the set that you found interesting or funny. You were such a fantasy geek. It really wasn't my cup of tea, but I had fun because I got to spend time with you.

About a week later, when I was safely hundreds of miles away and you couldn't tell me in person—things are so much easier to say to a screen than to a face—you told me about your first reaction when you saw me that November night. You said I looked so much different, prettier. I scoffed at this because how could I look any different after only three months? You told me that you were taken aback by my appearance; it was that different, but in a good way. I believe you told me that you just thought "Wow" or "Whoa" or something like that. Some kind of interjection. I don't want to mis-quote you, Edward, that's why I'm telling you the uncertainty of my memory. Feel free to correct me if I get something wrong.

But I thought about what you said for a while. Sometimes I still think about it. I assumed at first that you were just trying to be nice and make me feel happy about myself. But then I thought back to that first time on your porch and how you kind of lost your own words. It was like you didn't know what to say to me. Hell, I didn't really know what to say, either. Yes, we talked so much, but seeing a person for the first time in so long is an experience in of itself.

Maybe these assumptions and observations are all in my imagination, though. That's a very valid possibility. But I don't think you were lying to me. You thought me pretty. No one has ever called me that before, Edward. My heart practically jumped over the moon, I was so elated. You, a straight guy, called me pretty. I didn't really believe it, but I thought that maybe if you thought me attractive—which you must have, otherwise you wouldn't have told me how pretty I became—then maybe, just maybe, we would end up as more than friends.

Wrong. We're ending up as less than friends, less than even acquaintances. We're ending up as total strangers.

Tonight, just an hour or two ago, Renee told me that my hair looked pretty. I assumed that it was because of the little braid I had on the side of my head, but she said no, it looked lighter. Not in color—I was still the chestnut brunette—but as if it weighed nothing and decided to float around my face, but in a good way. And I thought that maybe Edward would think my hair was pretty, too. That is, if you would ever see me again. I don't think you would want to, but you can always prove me wrong. And I don't think you think me pretty anymore, either.

Love?

BMS


	13. Tuesday, July 13

**In honor of my 14 page research proposal being turned in today, I am giving you guys a chapter/letter. I'm so relieved, I may just edit another one tonight. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or Facebook or anything created in the real world that is mentioned in this chapter and/or any other chapter in this story. Also, I don't own the lyrics to "Memories That Fade Like Photographs." But you should listen to it.**

Tuesday, July 13, 2010

Dear Edward,

I am listening to a song you posted on my Facebook wall about two months ago. Remember Rock Bottom's "Memories That Fade Like Photographs"? It's so fitting, you know. It's almost too fitting for our situation here. I'm listening to it over and over again, I can't get enough. It's my therapy (haha, another RB song), but I don't know if it's doing only good. It makes me sad, but I guess things can only get worse before they get better, right?

To prove my point as to how good this song is, I'm going to share the lyrics with you. Just in case you don't remember some of the critical lines in this song that hit so close to home for me.

I said I'd never forget your face  
Vaulted away inside my head  
And memories never seem to fade  
You were the best part of my life: my last regret

Now I've walked this line a thousand times before  
It hurts too much to bear  
FOR YOU  
I'd tear out my own heart  
And write our names together

Your love is the barrel of a gun  
So tell me am I on the right end  
I could be nothing but a memory to you  
Don't let this memory fade away

And in the end we're turning on and off again  
There's a look in your eye  
And it's screaming goodbye  
I'd hate to watch you cry

Your love is the barrel of a gun  
So tell me am I on the right end  
I could be nothing but a memory to you  
Don't let this memory fade away

There's a look in your eye and it's screaming goodbye  
Now it tears me apart just to look at the sky  
And I'd hate to watch you cry  
I'D HATE TO WATCH YOU CRY

Your love is the barrel of a gun  
So tell me am I on the right end  
I could be nothing but a memory to you  
Don't let this memory fade away

I hope you see what I see in these lyrics, Edward. The refrain in its entirety is good, especially the last two lines: "I could be nothing more than a memory to you/Don't let this memory fade away." I don't want to just be a memory to you, Edward. And I don't want you to just be a memory to me. I want you to be my forever friend. But if we aren't, I hope that you'll never forget me. I know I'll never forget you. I think you'll always hold a place in my heart because I grew to love you too much. Another one of my favorite lines is "And in the end we're turning on and off again." That's you, Edward. You pretend like you don't know me, but then you'll pretend like I'm an acquaintance and say "Hi" and "How are you?" You'll be perfectly pleasant, but never let me in. I guess that's turning on and off to me. And it's so very frustrating. I don't know if I'll get a stranger or an old schoolmate who I had one class with and had maybe one pleasant conversation.

Oh, but my favorite one of all. Can you guess which one it is, Edward? Answer: "There's a look in your eye/And it's screaming goodbye." Hell yeah, best lines in the whole song. It describes you so well. You have this caution in your eyes, like you're trying to maintain your distance from me, like I'm dangerous and unknown. While I will not exactly disagree on the former, the latter is far from the truth. You know me. You know me better than I know myself. But whenever I look in your eyes now, I see that you don't want anything to do with me anymore. There is a look in your eye and it's screaming goodbye at the top of your lungs. It's screaming goodbye forever. It kills me whenever I would see it. God. It makes me so sad.

We are in an episode-in-the-making, Edward. I just sent you a message with the link to the song on it. Well, I sent it about 15 minutes ago. Have you done anything? I don't really know. You probably didn't even listen to the damn song. And just so you know, you're breaking my heart all over again. Yes, I am tearless now, but tears, or lack thereof, mean nothing.

You're not going to do anything, I know. And now I'm almost delirious with hurt that I want to make you feel guilty. I want to tell you that yes something is wrong with me and that there is a small chance that my health could be in trouble. Yes, I went to the doctor today and she found a lump. She said it was a cyst, but it may be fluid-filled or tissue-filled. If it's the former, then it's fine and I get to live my life as it was. If it's the later, then I could be in a bit of trouble. But the possibility of that is very slim. It's just that cysts are common for women my mom's age and older, not for girls in their late teens.

God, I don't want to do anything hasty, but I'm on opposite sides of the spectrum here. I'm either extremely upset or completely lacking emotion. I need a happy medium. I'm too extreme.

Love?

BMS

**Brownie points to anyone who knows Rock Bottom's name in real life. **


	14. Wednesday, July 14

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or Facebook or anything created in the real world that is mentioned in this chapter and/or any other chapter in this story.**

Wednesday, July 14, 2010

Dear Edward,

Early July, 2009. I don't remember the exact day, but it was after the fourth and it was the day you left for Italy. I want to say it was the 9th, but who knows? You can correct me if you remember. You'd wanted to meet that day to hang out one last time before you left and say good-bye. I said "Okay" and agreed to meet you outside the library because 1) it was a central location more or less equidistant from our houses, which are about 2 miles apart 2) I was meaning to go there to return some books and check out new ones and 3) as of then, I really didn't trust you completely, so I wanted a nice and casual spot with lots of people around. Not like I thought you were going to rape me or anything like that. I just didn't feel comfortable with the prospect of being alone with you. Yes, you can say it: I am one paranoid little girl.

Funny how things change in just one short year. Now all I want is alone time with you.

I remember locking up my bike on Main Street and where Washington ended. I had told my mom where I was going, of course, but I left out the fact that I would only be spending a fraction of my time away doing things other than biking and browsing books. After noticing that the time was near to meet, I left the library (with or without new books, I don't remember) and sat right outside on that little wall of cement blocks that hold up the raised earth right outside the church next door to the library. I remember pulling out my ipod, trying to keep casual, and listening to God-only-knows-what as I waited.

About five minutes after our meeting time (you are predictably chronically late, Edward, I can pretty much tell you beforehand how late you will be) I saw you walking down the street from the west, your bike in tow. It was a dark blue bike, I remember. It also looked really old, like your dad's hand-me-down or something. You were being a dork and wearing your helmet, even as you walked through downtown Forks on the sidewalk. I pretended to not notice you, trying to seem like I wasn't as excited to see you as I really was. You sat on the wall next to me and I took that as my cue to acknowledge you. We exchanged "Hi's" and "How are you's," but then came the time for us to kill the small talk and actually do something. I didn't know what to do! Remember, this was I think the second time I actually spent time with you in a non-school setting. I was more than a tad nervous.

So, we went next door to Scott Park. I know, lame. But I'm just lame person in general, so deal with it. We didn't even really do much, now that I think of it. We just sat on the metal stage that is always there for the summer. There are little concerts and shows there every weekend sometime, so the town doesn't bother to take it down. On that stage, for maybe 45 minutes, we talked just about random shit. I don't remember, of course. We just sat there in the middle of the park and enjoyed each other's company. But then, too soon, you said you had to leave, for your plane took off later that night. I was actually surprised that you took time out of your day that I'm sure you needed to spend packing and other stuff like that just to see me.

That was really sweet, Edward. I felt loved.

We walked back down Main since we were going the same way. I remember noticing that you were a lot taller than I had thought as we walked side-by-side. Your bike was not in between us, I remember. When we got to Washington, I had to leave you to go my own way. I live south while you live west. This was my favorite part, looking back now and forgetting my worry that I held at the time. We said good-bye and that we'd see each other in three weeks, but it wasn't just that. See, before, you had never touched me besides graduation (that story, like the others, is for another day). Like I said before, I like my personal space maintained, unless you're a close friend or family member, and I think you got that vibe. You looked like you were going to hug me. I thought you at least wanted to as you just stood there about three feet away after you had already said your parting words. But you just took a good look at me one last time before turning around and heading home. It was quite awkward at the time and had me fretting for a few days afterward. Did I seem bitchy in any way? I know I have a tendency to push others away. I was afraid I had done that to you because although you were weird as ever, you were a nice guy. I had never met one of those before.

That was over a year ago. Now, as you will leave me again, I know I will not come close to receiving the same treatment as last July. I asked you today via text if you were leaving this Friday. You said yes. You had told me in June when I was over helping you study chem that you would leave then and I remembered. You also said that you would not return until sometime in early August. I did the calculations in my head really quickly and discovered something awful: I most likely would not get the chance to see you until my fall break in October or Thanksgiving. That's four months, Edward. And what did you say to that? "I suppose so." How much more distant can a person get? God. You know, I purposely do shit like that just to give you the opportunity to show that maybe you want to be friends. And every time, you let me down by saying things that make it seem like none of this happened. Like I'm a crazy little girl who just thought up all these things that I'm telling you in these letters.

A year ago, you wanted to see me before you left. Now, a year later, I want to see you again so much it hurts, no matter how much you let me down. It's called unconditional love, Edward.

Love?

BMS


	15. Thursday, July 15

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or Facebook or anything created in the real world that is mentioned in this chapter and/or any other chapter in this story.**

Thursday, July 15, 2010

Dear Edward,

I got my hair cut today. It wasn't anything too different, just a trim, but it's now shorter than I thought it would be. It's about as long as it was when I was home for spring break, I'd say. It's about three or four inches past my shoulders with layers that come down to my neck. Not like it matters much to you anyway. You probably wouldn't give a shit.

Do you remember when my hair was long? It was pretty much to my elbows, it was that long. I hadn't kept it like that since I was fifteen when I donated it. I guess you could say that I had been growing it back those next two years. When you met me, though, it was back to being super long and straight. No, I never did anything to it besides wash, condition, and comb every day. Low maintenance. I was almost as bad as a guy, though I actually kept up my hygiene. I remember you saying that you never combed your hair because it would just turn into an afro, it was so wavy. I always loved your hair. It looked so thick and soft that I've always wanted to run my fingers through it just to know what it feels like. But those thoughts didn't start popping into my head until last fall, don't worry.

My hair is kind of strange. I inherited my mom's type. It's straight and slightly flat, but not thin. It's not thick, either. Very average. It's smooth and what I think is soft. So much so that it is actually quite slippery at times. It's a bit of a strange brown, though. It's not especially dark or light brown, but it's almost auburn. In sunlight, it looks a tad red. I guess my Irish roots expose themselves in that aspect of my appearance.

I loved my long hair. I thought it was beautiful how it came down to the middle of my back. It may have been a tad flat, but it was straight and fell into place, always neat and under control. I could braid it to the side easily or put it in a huge twist at the base of my neck. I loved to braid it, but most of the time I let it down.

My friends loved my hair. I remember watching the homecoming game senior year and Alice was playing with my hair, combing her fingers through it as she sat behind me and plaiting it, saying how pretty and long it was. Angela has told me countless times that my hair was pretty. Even you, Edward. You have told me that my hair was beautiful more than once. You loved how long it was. None of you wanted me to cut it.

But my mom did. Oh, she hated how it grew down my back. She would complain how it weighed me down. She said it wasn't attractive how flat it was and that I looked odd with it so long. It hurt to hear her say that to me time and time again. I thought it was a nice length. And the hypocrite, I knew that Renee had hair longer than mine when she was my age.

I would try to defend myself by telling her that my friends liked my hair. I told her of their requests to not cut it off. But she said that unless they were lesbians, their opinions didn't count.

Ah, now we have reached the underlying reason for my mom's great concern in my appearance. Isn't it so obvious now? She wanted to make sure I looked nice to attract a guy. It was all about that. I'll go into detail about that whole situation another day.

I of course could have mentioned you. I wanted to scream in her face that yes! A straight guy thinks my long hair is pretty! A guy likes it and thinks it's attractive! That would finally prove me right in our countless little arguments that we have over my appearance. But I couldn't tell her. You know I couldn't tell her because that would have only brought on a whole new topic of conversation to disagree about. If I told her that, then she would have been completely convinced that we were secretly dating or that you were in love with me. Neither possibility would have been acceptable to her. She hated you for wanting to spend time with me. She didn't need to know that you thought any part of me was pretty. I think that would have me locked in my room. So I kept quiet, but every time Mom would complain, I would always think of you and your little compliments you would give me every once in a while. There was a guy out there who thought I was beautiful just as I was.

I miss my long hair. I can't wait till it grows back, which probably won't be for another year or two. By then I will hopefully be too old for my mother to influence my physical appearance. I will be pretty again. Well, at least one part of me will be pretty. I'm not so sure about my other features. I know it may sound vain, but I really did like my hair. Not so much now, with it being about three or four inches past my shoulder. Sure, it looks cute, but it's just not me. But until it grows out, I will have to settle with looking like every other girl with shortish-longish hair.

So then why did I cut it all off on January 4, 2009? You know a bit of the story. The day after our little adventure to Port Angeles, I made an appointment to chop it all off. I remember telling the lady that I wanted it at my shoulder and she looked at me like I was crazy. She asked if I was sure and I said yes, I had done the same thing when I was fifteen. It was all gone when I walked out. Well, not really. It was at my shoulders, but with layers, too.

I have a few reasons as to why I did it, Edward. First of all was the excuse I told you. I was so sick of Renee nagging at me about my hair weighing me down and making me look not as pretty that I decided to just chop it all off, just to spite her. She said five inches, so I cut ten. Of course, it totally backfired. She loved it.

The second reason was a little childish, I'll admit. But it ties into the third. You remember my lovely first roommate. I was so scared to go back, Edward. She frightened me to no end and I didn't want to go through second semester like that. I thought that maybe she wouldn't recognize me and we could start over. Okay, I know it would never happen, but that would be a perfect-world situation. But still, I thought if I changed on the outside, she would have thought that I was a different girl on the inside. It's my crazy psychology theory. But you can kind of see how that might work, right?

My third reason kind of has to do with change, too. You know how much I hated school, Edward. I got so sad. I hated everything about that place. Honestly, you were the reason I didn't try to commit suicide. You were literally my lifeline. But sometimes it still wasn't enough. School still did a lot of damage to me. I was so depressed. I needed to start over, I needed a change. And I knew I could change my appearance. I got new glasses (with a stronger prescription, of course, though I rarely didn't wear my contacts) and a new haircut. I thought that maybe I could be a different person with this new look. I wanted to help myself to be happy at school and I thought that cutting my hair was a way to do just that.

I was wrong.

Good night and good luck, Edward.

Love?

BMS


	16. Friday, July 16

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or Facebook or anything created in the real world that is mentioned in this chapter and/or any other chapter in this story.**

Friday, July 16, 2010

Dear Edward,

I had a dream last night and you were in it. I don't remember much, just that you and I were at some type of festival going from stand to stand. It was one of those surreal dreams, not at all feeling like real life. But I don't remember anything that was definitely not possible in real life, how some dreams are.

Oh wait. I was with you for an extended period of time. No wonder it felt so surreal.

When I actually remember my dreams, you are quite the frequent participant. One time, I saw you on the street, right outside Bella Italia. I was so happy to see you, but when I tried to hug you, I couldn't grip you. I tried again and again, squeezing your torso, then your neck, then waist again, but you stood there, blank faced, arms at your side. You walked away wordlessly and I ran crying. Another time I was at your house, but so was every choir member you ever knew. And you talked to them like they were the greatest people to ever walk the earth, but you looked right through me like I was invisible. When I did try to get your attention, you pushed me away. I left immediately and drove away as fast as I could with tears in my eyes.

There's another one, a much bigger dream. Oddly enough, I told you about this one. We used to tell each other about our dreams, remember? Yours were always nightmares, I remember. They were always so scary. I was worried for you about that. I loved it when we shared dreams, though. It was always fun for me, despite yours (and sometimes mine) being so dark. I felt so close to you then.

Anyway, my confession: that dream I told you about? It was you. The guy in the dream was you. Do you remember me telling the dream where I kissed the boy I liked for so long in my bathroom? That was you. I wrote it all down the next morning. God, the whole thing was so vivid. In case you forgot, here it is:

**Saturday, May 22, 2010**

I was in my house with Edward. With my parents being their typical selves, I became embarrassed. Edward's house is so much different from mine. It is quiet and clean and organized. It is pristine while mine is…not.

Charlie and Renee were questioning us like the Spanish Inquisition, so I took his hand and pulled him into the first floor bathroom to hide from my parents. It was the only safe haven I could think of. But it was different. It was my old bathroom. The light made the room look yellow, which was enhanced by the light brown walls, just like the old wallpaper. The mirror was the old oval one with the wooden frame and the frosted flowers bordering it.

I shut the door behind us and breathed a sigh of relief. Alone at last, but without all the implications of being alone. We were just a couple of kids looking to escape from family. And despite us being in my bathroom, there was absolutely nothing strange about it. It was just a quiet place to spend time together. We laughed a bit nervously at each other, relieved that we had escaped my parents.

Then the faucet from the sink turned on full blast. It, like the rest of the room, was the old beige sink with silver faucet and handles. Water started to overflow from the sink. I tried to turn the water off, but it just kept flowing with no signs of stopping. Water covered the floor and began to rise. It did not go through the spaces in between the door and the walls and floor. Instead, it turned into our own private pool.

And even though we technically could have drowned, for the door couldn't open either, we weren't afraid at all. We even started playing as the water crept higher and higher. I had the compulsion to bend my knees so that the water's surface just grazed my chin and glided around, ever so often glancing at Edward to check his reaction. A couple minutes later, he did the same. I looked in that oval mirror and there we were, looking straight back, grinning and giggling like idiots. We bobbed up and down, always looking in the mirror, standing up to our full height and then sinking back into the water, sometimes being fully submerged.

And the whole time, he was smiling at me, and I at him. And my heart was on cloud nine. It was so carefree I was euphoric. It was just like all those times at his house last summer when we did stupid things (though completely legal) that I would have never considered doing before I met him.

The whole time, water continued to gush out of the sink. It rose to my chin and I had to stand up straight and even rise to the balls of my feet to keep from sucking in water. Edward continued to remain in perfect eye level with me. I looked directly at him and locked gazes with him. I normally avoid this in reality in fear of blushing or him somehow realizing that I love him. But this time, I did not look away. We stopped laughing, even stopped smiling as everything grew quiet and very serious. All I could hear was the water coming from the faucet.

We got closer and closer until finally the gap between us closed and I felt his lips on mine. My heart did back-flips and my lips tingled from his touch. It was like all my nerve endings were at my lips because I felt only how smooth his lips were. As I realized that I really was kissing him, I felt a twinge of panic because I had never kissed a guy before and had no idea what to do. I hoped that I was doing a good job because my bliss was through the roof.

It was the perfect first kiss, despite the unusual circumstances. It was passionate, but innocent and slow and long. There was no hasty lust, just romantic attraction between two people, a boy and a girl. It really was the first kiss of my dreams.

We finally parted because you can only kiss someone for so long. Immediately following, I remembered the fear I had been experiencing for the past 8 months. He couldn't possibly like me the way I liked him. It was only platonic. He would reject me. He would tell me that the kiss, my first kiss ever, was a mistake. Then I would know for certain that I could never be more than just his best friend because he never told me such things in so many words. And I just couldn't deal with that. It would break my heart completely instead of just tearing it here and there like what has been happening ever since my feelings have grown into something stronger than friendship.

I didn't want to hear it or see it in his eyes. So I kissed him again. Unlike the first one, which was both of us completely and equally coming together, I closed the gap by myself and initiated the kiss. He was surprised, but only for a second. He then gave in and I was back to my paradise and the kiss was just like the first. Soft and sweet and absolutely beautiful.

But then we stopped and I knew that there was no escaping the inevitable. I started panicking and tried to prepare myself for what he was going to say. No, I couldn't hear it. I couldn't take it. I wished so much to not let him reject me.

I got my wish when I woke up.

Love?

BMS

**TGIF! I hope you guys liked that dream. Reviews are love, so spread the love by reviewing, please!**


	17. Sunday, July 18

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or Facebook or anything created in the real world that is mentioned in this chapter and/or any other chapter in this story.**

Sunday, July 18, 2010

Dear Edward,

Let me just say first off that I miss you. I keep thinking that maybe you'll call or text me today or tomorrow or sometime soon, but I know it's just wishful thinking. But that doesn't negate the fact that I still miss you a ton.

As we near the end of August, I am continuing to receive more things in the mail for school. If you remember, I am transferring universities. It was my first choice school, if you recall, and I was so close to getting in as a freshman. I was deferred, then weightlisted, then denied about 2 weeks before my birthday. I know, what a lovely 18th birthday present. A rejection letter.

Yesterday I got this huge envelope with two spiral bound packets—one for off-campus housing and another serving as the transfer student handbook. The latter entertained me far more. It had everything about the school and its campus you could ever want to know (besides the academic things). It explained dorm life and activities and, of course, football. There were also mini-profiles of the transfer students that would be guiding us during orientation. It made me so excited for dorm life and just being on campus, but I doubt that I'll be able to get a room since housing is very limited and not guaranteed for transfers.

One of the big advantages is that it's so much closer to home. I won't be stranded! I can come home for fall break, which is a whole week off instead of a measly 3-day weekend. I'm planning on visiting Alice then. Of course, I would probably have to spend a considerable amount of time studying at the library, but I might see you since Forks High is just next door. Would you notice me? If you did, would you say hi? Would you be surprised? I don't know the answer to these questions, Edward. That's why I'm asking you.

Oh, how it would be so good to see you during my fall break. I would like that so much. But I don't know how busy you would be then, or how much you would want to see me. I remember a time when you wanted to see me every day. That was Thanksgiving, remember? I saw you twice on Wednesday (just saying hi to all my friends and then a movie night) and a movie night on Friday. I couldn't hang out on Saturday because I had already dedicated that to my other friends and obviously Thursday was Thanksgiving, though I remember texting back and forth both days.

I remember hanging out at Alice's Saturday night and you texting me. Remember what you said? You told me that it was ridiculous, but you already missed me or something like that. I don't remember exactly what you said, so I won't put quotes around that, but it was in the general ballpark. I thought it was the sweetest thing in the world. Of course, our cellular conversation did not go unnoticed and Rosalie demanded to know what you said. I obliged and read it aloud. They all did their share of giggling and aww-ing, even saying that they thought you really liked me. You said you wished you could see me again and I thought it was quite ironic considering you were telling me this while I was four blocks directly north of your house. My friends teased me and asked if we needed to stop by his house just so you could see me like you wanted. It was quite the tempting proposition, I will have to admit. But then I reminded myself that I was not living in a romantic comedy or some stupid book or movie. It would be foolish to show up with my friends watching in a car in front of your house. I told them no, of course not. That didn't stop all the suggestive remarks, though.

This school year, however, I don't think I'll be spending any time with you while I'm home. Not that I don't want to, Edward. I, unfortunately, am a hopeless fool who would love to hang out with you any time. You used to love the prospect of me being closer to home. That way, I could return more than three times a year and you could come visit me.

One time during winter break we finished watching a movie in the basement and went upstairs to find another since it was only around nine at night and you didn't want me gone quite yet. Your mom had a friend over also, and they were in your living room. She initiated small talk with me about how school was going and all that jazz. I felt somewhat nervous around her and her friend, who seemed nice enough, but still. I was a tad worried what your mom's friend would think, seeing me and you standing side-by-side with not a lot of space in between and knowing that I was a freshman in college, two years older than you. Would she think that there was something going on between us, and then tell your mom? Could either of them tell just by looking at me that I liked you? Also, I felt dizzy because I was wearing my new glasses that, of course, had stronger lenses that I had not yet grown used to (I had not gotten my contacts yet, which was unfortunate because I despise and never wear my glasses). I became very conscious of the frames on my face, thinking of how they might make me look ugly and studious compared to you standing next to me. It occurred to me that your mom's friend my think how in the hell did I, plain and simple at best, wind up attracting your attention? You must know, Edward, that you are definitely above average when it comes to appearance.

Somehow, we winded up talking about my possible transfer. I told them that I wanted to go to school a bit closer to home. I really did hate being at school for so long at a time. You knew that very well and at one time I think you hated it just as much, if not more than me. One of the ladies asked me where I was looking to apply and I said University of Washington (of course) and possibly Washington State. When you heard the latter, your eyes lit up. You knew very well that it was just in Olympia, an easy trip. We could in theory see each other every weekend if we really wanted to. You looked like a kid who found out what he was going to get for Christmas, no joke. It made you so happy, just the prospect of me still being in the area.

So as I look to the future and my new school that I will travel to in a month and a day, I think of the opportunity we have to see each other more often. I wish I didn't, but I can't help it. You will have your license soon and UW is only an hour and a half away. But you won't come to see me, not now that you don't even want to talk to me or hang out when I am only two miles away.

I miss you, Eward. I miss you so much it hurts. A lot. All the time.

Love?

BMS

**OK I totally made that stuff up about the universities mentioned here. Sorry, I was really lazy and just didn't bother to go off of facts. **

**Please review! Reviews = 3 Love is what makes the world go 'round. **


	18. Tuesday, July 20

**Yikes. Sorry, guys. Lab is literally taking over my life. Phagocytosis assays take a total of about 13 hours of work. I honestly can't say when I've had more than 5 hours of sleep a night. Ah, such is the life of a bio major. Also, decided to hate me and not let me add chapters to this for the past week. Anyway, here is a quickly edited chapter just cuz I need a break from work. **

**I own nothing.**

Tuesday, July 20, 2010

Dear Edward,

Today is not a good day. First and foremost, today is lab report day. I hate writing lab reports. I hate lab in general. I don't know why, but it's so painful to do things for this class. I just can't do it sometimes. I think it might be because I have no idea why we do what we do in the lab. I don't have any prior knowledge about this shit and they don't teach it to us. What's more, the book sucks and is only useful for procedures. Lecture is talking about completely different topics. I'm not sure if we'll even learn these things in lab until my second semester of lecture. It's so frustrating.

I checked my grade online today. I'm getting a low C in lab. I've never gotten a C before. It's my own fault, though. I know I should have studied more for the midterm. That's what killed me. I failed that test, and not by a little. I just couldn't do it. I thought it was pointless since I knew I would do badly on it anyway. I don't see the point of this class. It means nothing to me. But I can see the light at the end of the very long and dark tunnel. I just have to survive and pass the class. I really don't care anymore about getting an A or even a B.

I'm starting to get cabin fever. It's just like I felt when I was a senior and sometimes even a junior. My house isn't that small, though it is smaller than yours. But with the clutter that inhabits my house and my parents, it's virtually impossible to get a quiet place around here. And even when no one is around, I still have problems concentrating. It's just so distracting. I'd wanted to go to the library to work today, but Renee convinced me to stay home. I think she's realizing that I'll be gone again in a month and wants me to stay close as much as possible. What a mistake. I didn't do crap. Time wasted. I could have gone to work instead and at least earn some money.

The one thing I liked about college was that I had places to work in peace. My room was surprisingly productive when I had work to be done. But the library was the best. It was quiet, but not dead. There was always someone nearby scratching their pencils on paper or clicking away at their keyboards. I was alone, but not at the same time. I could work all day in a cubicle in the far corner of the study area, far enough away from the always-busy front counter. It was the best thing.

Tonight I tried the Forks Public Library, but it was even noisier than home! I don't know why, but 14/15 year olds love to hang out there and socialize on the second floor, right by the tables with the outlets that are prime spots for me, who just so happens to be working on her laptop and doesn't want to run out of battery power. They were so loud! Those girls didn't even attempt to lower their voices. I was quite tempted to get a librarian to yell at them. They were just sitting in the chairs that were arranged in a circle and talking and laughing obnoxiously. No books, no magazines, no nothing of the written word. I tried to think of why they would hang out in the library of all places, but came up with nothing but the fact that it was air conditioned. There are plenty of places that are air conditioned and allow conversation above a murmur.

What's more, I really really missed you today. I just wanted to talk to you. Well, not really. I'm selfish, Edward. I want to talk to you. I want to see you. I want to touch you. I want to hug you. I want it so bad it hurts. But I've told you that more than once already. Do you believe me? You should because it's the truth.

It comes unexpectedly. I could be just sitting there minding my own business and the flood of emotions and memories comes in a flash. Like a tidal wave. I remember old times, new times, all in flashes. Pretty much everything I've told you and everything that I haven't yet comes at once. It makes me want to laugh and cry at the same time, but crying usually prevails. I'm trying to get myself to look back and not feel sad. Hopefully I am getting there. At least I do smile once in a while. I couldn't before.

Love?

BMS

**Reviews=love. Love makes the world go 'round. So spread the love and shoot me a review! Trust me, if I have the time to update, you have the time to review.**


	19. Thursday, July 22

**Alright, here is another thing that I had to change: Bella's birthday. Yes, I know that it's in September, blah blah, but if my little idea concerning her birthday was to be included in this timeline, it had to be changed. Oh well. I hope you at least like (well, you won't like it, but maybe appreciate) what you find out this chapter.**

**I own nothing, especially "Circles." But you should go watch the music video for it on youtube. The band members are young and so adorable, in a punk-ish way, if that's possible.**

Thursday, July 22, 2010

Dear Edward,

July 22, 1991. Renee Swan, a young woman 11 days away from her 22nd birthday, gave birth to her first child, a girl. Of course, that baby girl was me. Now, here we are, nineteen years later. I have reached the last of my teenage years.

I don't know how I feel about that. I won't deny that I am afraid to grow up. I see my parents and how stressed they can be about the responsibilities of adulthood. Well, at least Charlie can get that way. Granted, they are middle aged and I'm a long way from that, but still. I like being careless. You may think that I enjoy being responsible and all that jazz, but I see it more as an obligation. If I had it my way, I would go to Neverland and be young forever. Young and carefree with nothing to worry about. Unfortunately, worrying is what I do best.

I know I'm still young. Hell, I'm still a teen! But it still seems so foreign to me to be nineteen. That's like "Holy crow, you're really starting to get into adulthood." At least I still have school to keep me from many responsibilities. And I still behave like a kid. You know that, though you've never really seen me at my worst. The only time I can think of is that night at Quaker Church on our way back from the concert in the basement. Alice was driving and you were in the front, seeing that you would be the last to be dropped off and you were the tallest. Me, Rose and Angela were squished in the backseat. It was a freezing January night and the car was just as cold, if not colder because of the leather seats, as it was outside. Angela and I, the hypothermiacs, were clinging to each other, trying to share what little body heat we possessed. I was foolish and complained about feeling cold one too many times because Alice said something quite provocative for the sole purpose of making me embarrassed out of my mind. She succeeded. As we neared the Webers' house, I complained how Angela was going to leave me cold and alone in the backseat. Being Alice, she countered with something about sitting on your lap. Holy crow, did that make me flustered! I quickly as I could came up with something to say to that. But what could I say? Well, I told the truth and said that I would probably break your legs if I sat on your lap. I'm not exactly light as a feather and while I know you are strong, you are still skinny. But not bad skinny. It's an Edward skinny. I like it.

Today was pretty good. I went to the dermatologist for an acne consultation. The doctor gave me a couple product samples to try out. I'm starting to get sick of the bumps and dots on my face. I've had them for five years. I know acne is a legit medical problem, but I thought that I was just like every other kid. I get my share of pimples and then grow out of them after high school. Well, here I am and still acne-filled. Renee has been pushing me to do something about my face since I was seventeen. I always thought that she thought me ugly because of my acne. It's not that bad, but it's still quite noticeable. Makeup helps, but not that much. Would you think me pretty if I got rid of my acne, Edward?

My parents gave me a new iPod for my birthday. I'm sure you can guess what color it is. Yep, it's green, but not a lime green. It's a beautiful emerald green. A true green. just like your eyes. I'm so excited because I can now put all my music on my iPod. My old one wasn't near capable of doing that. The memory on this one isn't even half-filled!

I also found out what I was keeping my Friday night open for. I'm going to see Rock Bottom tomorrow at Metro! Alice came by my house today after she got off from work to give me the ticket. It was in an envelope with a card and a mix CD. I read the card first at her request. It was quite clever. She wrote a bunch of lyrics from different Rock Bottom songs strung together so it somewhat made sense. It was mostly about being young and reckless and having fun. When I first read it, I knew that they were lyrics, but I couldn't identify them. You know what line I read that finally clued me in? It was from "Circles": "A reminder that creativity runs deep like secrets." That's one of your favorite songs by them. You played that song all the time. I know because you would send me the link to it constantly. But I only thought of that when I read the card over again when I was alone. When I figured it out, I kept reading, but with a shit-eating grin on my face. Holy crow, I'm going to see Rock Bottom tomorrow! It really was a wonderful birthday present. Alice is too good to me.

But I didn't get the birthday present I have been expecting for over a year. You know what it is? You should since you were going to give it to me. Sometime in early July 2009 we were talking over Facebook chat and the topic of birthdays came up. I think it was because I had mentioned the fact that I was still seventeen. I'm not sure if that was the true origin of the conversation, but let's pretend that it was. Anyway, you asked when my birthday was since it was obviously coming up. I told you July 22. And you know what you did, Edward? You immediately thought to your vacation schedule and realized you weren't going to be around Forks to wish me happy birthday. I have to say that you seemed at least a little disappointed. You would still be in England with your relatives over there by the time my birthday came around. You couldn't even call me on my birthday.

But you had a consolation plan. You wanted to send me a postcard. So, you asked me for my address and wrote it down for safekeeping. I am only assuming you did this because lo and behold, about a week after my birthday, there it was! I have to admit that I checked the mailbox every day from my birthday onward. I had this terrible fear that Renee would get to it before me and see that it was from an Edward, which I wouldn't be able to worm my way out of that predicament. You can imagine what would come next. She would have asked why you were sending me postcards in the mail and how you knew my address, and if we were secretly dating. So I checked it like the paranoid freak that I am. It was actually quite stressful because three days a week I had work from 12 to 4, right when our mail came. After a few days of looking through the mail, though, I began to lose hope. Maybe you didn't remember that you promised to send me a birthday postcard. Maybe you forgot what day my birthday was. You are quite forgetful, Edward, you must know.

But you didn't let me down because there it was, about a week later. It said: "Dear Bella, I am not going to write in cursive. Happy birthday. This is a short postcard. –Edward Cullen." It was written in pencil in your neat, loopy handwriting that I had grown used to reading over my last semester of high school. I loved it. But then I noticed at the bottom of the card something was written in blue pen and definitely not in your handwriting. It said "Back July 31!" That was only a couple days later! But then I remembered that someone else had written that. That same someone else had written out my name and address, too. I could only assume it was your mom, which made my cheeks flame up instantly. Why? Because your parents knew that you wanted to give a girl who was two years older than you a postcard because her birthday was while you were out of the country. Did they think I was out of sorts because I was friends with their sixteen year-old son? Obviously they didn't discourage our friendship because there was your mom helping you send me a postcard! But still, it worried me that your mom and dad knew that the extent of our friendship was clearly beyond school.

Either way, it warmed my heart to get a postcard from you. I would read it every once in a while in the days following. I remember hiding it under my pillow so that no one would find it. And no one ever did. I still have it, you know. I brought it with me to school to post on the bulletin board that was behind my desk. It was a little piece of you that I kept with me along with things from my other friends.

That wasn't the only thing you promised, Edward. You also promised to give me something for today, for my nineteenth birthday. Do you remember what it was? Maybe you do. It's probably still on your computer, though that is just a guess on my part. You were going to write me a book. You told me that you were going to write me a page a day every day for a year and then print it all out and give it to me today, my nineteenth birthday. Holy crow! When you decided this I thought you were joking. I mean, who writes a book that's going on 400 pages? That's nuts. But you insisted that you were serious and would really do it. I said that it would be too much work to type up a whole page every day, but you proved me wrong right then and there. You typed the first page right as we were talking via Facebook chat. It only took you about fifteen minutes, and that was with me still talking with you. When you announced your completion, I asked you what you wrote about. You wouldn't tell me anything, of course. You said that the whole book would be about whatever you were thinking of that day. Dear Lord, I could only imagine the crazy things that were running in your mind, like orangutans and cupcake hell and geese in the cornfields. Random shit like that you always said just to make me laugh. What did you write that day, Edward?

But then I thought of possibly other things you might write in this book you were to give me. I blame it on my friends putting ideas in my head, really. What if you told me what I had suspected since day one? God, I had no idea. I figured that I would have to find out in a year. The suspense killed me sometimes. I couldn't wait to be nineteen just to get that book. It would have been the best birthday present I would have ever gotten. Hell, it would have been the best any kind of present. Why? Because it would have come from your heart and mind. It would have cost you hundreds of hours putting it together over the course of a whole year. Because I loved you as one of my best friends and surely if you wanted to do something so grand for me, you must have loved me too, right?

Notice my use of the phrase "would have." You didn't give me the book you promised me, Edward. I knew you wouldn't. I even told you this last summer, that you would forget about it eventually and would abandon it. I was okay with that, seeing that it was such a sweet thing just as an idea. But you insisted that you would finish it. You even gave me updates for pretty much the rest of the summer, telling me that yes, you were still working on my book and you had already written x amount of pages.

Guess what, Edward? It's my nineteenth birthday, and though I knew you wouldn't give me that book of your thoughts, I'm still disappointed. I can't help it. You convinced me that you would really write me a book. I want it, or at least what you had written when you did. What did you say, Edward? The not-knowing is killing me. I almost have half a mind to show up at your house while you're not home and ask your mom to show it to me. She might, you never know. Or maybe one day I'll have enough courage built up to ask you, though I don't know if you would remember that you had ever started such a project just for me. I'm so very, very curious. I guess I'll never know. And maybe one day I won't even care anymore, though I don't think that will happen anytime soon. But it's a process, Edward. It's a long, painful process, but it needs to be completed.

I miss you a ton, even though you didn't wish me happy birthday. I knew you wouldn't anyway. I'm still disappointed, but at least it wasn't a shock. I knew deep down that you wouldn't call or text or anything, even though I called you on your birthday and sang "Happy Birthday" to you. You laughed the whole time. But then I got scared. Could you tell? I got so nervous and didn't know what to say, so I told you happy birthday and that I should let you go and not waste your time. And you said ok. You let me go. And now I have to let you go.

Love?

BMS


	20. Wed, Thurs, Fri, July 28,29,30

**I own nothing except my memories.**

Wednesday, Thursday and Friday, July 28 thru 30, 2010

Dear Edward,

I've decided to give an account of how we met. It's high time you see it from my perspective since it's probably very different from yours. So, over the next few days, I'll just make you one long letter of everything I remember about the beginning, that is how we got to know each other officially So away we go….

XXX

November 11, 2008. Don't ask me how I remember the exact day, I just do. It was the last day to drop a class with no notation on my transcript. The day before, I had an epiphany. I was taking AP physics and it was a lot harder than expected. Sure, I was getting better at it and was in the top half of the class, even with all those smart and arrogant guys, but I wanted out. I just didn't have the time to devote to that class. I was also getting quite tired of being in a class with 25 guys and two other girls. Too much testosterone, if you ask me. They were all jerks, too. Also, it was nearing the end of the quarter and I didn't have any of my lab reports done, which were due that Friday. Labs were so disorganized in that class and my data was crap. So call me a lazy coward, but I went to my dean and dropped that class. It didn't hurt me really. I already had four years of science under my belt. I didn't have to take that class. It took me over two months to realize that, but better late than never, right?

I felt liberated. I was out of science hell! Just as well, I had a free period for the rest of the year. Well, it was too late to take a class for the rest of the semester, so I got a study hall first period, which turned into a paper-editing time for my other classes. But I had an extra time slot for second semester. Now, I knew that I would have a study hall my fourth quarter because of chorus ending early in the year as usual, so I had to take a class. Sure, I could have had two study halls, but one is quite enough. Sometimes there is just nothing to do.

I chose to ask my dean about doing SILC for second semester, too. SILC stands for Senior Instructional Leadership Corps, in case you didn't know. But you know what SILC means. Seniors can apply to be in this program which pretty much lets you be a TA in whatever class you want. I chose honors biology, of course. The program was only in its second year and they never had students participate for a whole year, so my advisor was a tad uncertain about it. He had to call Ms. Kildner, who is this crazy hippie English teacher who was in charge of the whole thing, to see if it was okay for me to continue helping out in Mr. Banner's fourth period honors biology class. Obviously, you know the outcome. Otherwise we wouldn't be here with me writing you these letters.

I told Mr. Banner the next morning before school that I would be able to stay for second semester. That is, if he would have me. I'm humble like that. I mean, who knew? He might have wanted me out so he could have the class to herself again, though I wasn't a student teacher or anything too obnoxiously in the way. I just lectured a few times and helped out during labs and activities. I was a resource more than anything.

He was thrilled and actually confessed that he assumed that I would be around for the whole year. Well, I was. I remember standing by the back counter right in front of the fish tank telling him the news of my dropped physics class and my desire to do SILC for second semester. Yes, all was well. I had gotten rid of the class that set my stress levels off the charts and had another semester of my favorite subject: biology.

XXX

January 26, 2009. It was the first day of the new semester. As usual, I went to Mr. Banner's room before school to see if he needed any help setting up for her classes. I did that every morning. Most of the time, he didn't want anything, so I just hung out in his room. If students came in for help, he'd send them to me whether or not they were in my class. I never minded. I liked helping out others. That's why I signed up for the program.

That morning he was in a sour mood. I didn't blame him. He told me that three new kids were transferring into our already-large class. The count was now up to 27, which was ridiculous if you asked me. I have to admit I was frustrated. I knew how it went. Sophomores who were too whimpy to not deal with a crap teacher complained to their mommies and daddies, who then bothered the deans to change their precious children's schedules. The advisors obliged just to shut the obnoxious parents up. This happened a lot, especially in honors biology. The only good teacher was Mr. Banner and everyone knew it. The others sucked. But you know what? Shit happens and you just got to deal with it.

Taking my own advice, I grumbled a bit and moved on. I felt bad for Mr. Banner more than anything. No one had told him until that morning that his fourth period class would grow by three students. But it would be awkward, I thought, seeing that I was scheduled to lecture that day. I was just a seventeen year-old kid. I can only imagine how you felt that first day.

As I said, there were three of you: Elena, Ella, and you, Edward. Elena was a junior who turned out to be pretty stand-offish the whole year. Ella was a total ditz who I just wanted to slap across the face sometimes. What a disgrace to the female race. But you, Edward. You looked like such a sweetie. You were this tall and lanky boy who looked young, but not really. I could see the hints to your face that told your true age, but they would soon disappear to reveal the young man's face you have now. It was a cute face. Yes, I knew you were good-looking from the get-go. I won't deny it. But at the time it was an aww-look-at-the-underclassman kind of attractiveness. It was cute.

That very same day, everyone got new seats. Do you remember where you sat? It was at the table right in front of my little desk which was next to the teacher's desk. You and Bree sat there, facing me, not six feet away. And that's where you sat for almost three months, for Mr. Banner didn't change your seats until almost the end of the year. I have to wonder if all this would not have happened had you gotten assigned to the back of the classroom. The way things were, it was nearly impossible for us to ignore each other.

I lectured about the central dogma, I think. It was a little nerve-wracking to teach on the first day of the new semester, especially with three new students who didn't know me. I wasn't even a real authority figure. I was just some strange dorky senior girl who loved biology way too much and talked about things you couldn't see without an electron microscope, but would still be tested on in two weeks. But I tried my best. I always tried my best for you guys. I remember you asking a question once about something I had said in the lecture. It was just a clarification question. I was quite relieved. The whole time, I had been watching you three newbies for what you were. Were you guys going to be like Tyler and Mike, typical teenage boys with maturity levels equivalent to five year-olds? Or like Jessica and Lauren, who were typical sophomore girls who thought that they ruled the school after only being here for little over a year? Or maybe like Ellen and Corinne, quiet and a tad not completely with-it? No, with your question that you had asked so carefully and seriously, I had automatically deemed you as not a total idiot. I breathed an internal sigh of relief. Maybe you would be one of those kids who was genuinely interested and hard-working. I didn't want you to be just another stupid sophomore. Don't get me wrong, I grew to love all of you over the course of the school year. But I wanted you to be good in every way. And I got what I wished for during those months that we were best friends. And I thank you for that.

XXX

February 25, 2009. Yes, I remember this day, too. Mostly because I thought it was the strangest event ever. It's the day this all started, really. Sure, me dropping physics and you transferring into my biology class set it up, but this is where our story truly begins. It was a Wednesday night, I remember. I needed a break from homework, so I went on Facebook. I noticed that I had a friend request, but it was from someone whose name I didn't recognize. It was from Edward Masen. Knowing that some people preferred pseudonyms, I tried to think of any guys named Edward that I knew in general, but no one came to mind. I was going to hit "ignore" because I don't accept friend requests unless I know the person in real life. But then I noticed the little message that you wrote with the friend request. It said something like "Hi Bella. This is Edward from the wonderful world of biology." Oh. That Edward.

Wait, what?

I couldn't believe it. Edward Masen was Edward Cullen. That new kid who was so quiet, I barely knew what his voice was like. That kid who I sat facing towards for 48 minutes, five days a week. That kid who I didn't think I had spent five minutes talking to him over the past month. I barely knew you, Edward. And you barely knew me. I don't think I even knew your last name at the time because I thought Why would you want to friend request me? But then I thought of how so many people just friend everyone and anyone they have met and/or heard of. I am more of a conservative Facebook member. If I hadn't previously had multiple conversations with you, chances are that I won't accept your friend request. Of course, I have made changes to this M.O. because of college. I don't want to seem rude to potential future classmates.

Anyway, once I had realized that Edward Masen was you, I hit "accept." I mean, what the hell, why not? I was already Facebook friends with other kids from biology. It was really no different, I thought to myself. And it was perfectly okay to have a social relationship with any of you guys outside of class. I was a figure of authority to you, but only for those 48 minutes of biology class. Other than that, be it in the halls or outside the walls of Forks High, I was just a girl that you knew, a fellow student of your school. The latter was no problem establishing, but the former proved to be quite difficult for you guys to grasp. But I thought that this system I had thought of was reasonable. That's why I thought Facebook was completely appropriate.

Of course, once I accepted you, I was a stalker and went on your page….which was quite empty. I don't remember much about it except that your personal info was nonexistent. Well, that was no fun. I at least had wanted to see what kinds of music and books and movies you liked. Oh, and you had about 10 friends, including me.

Whoa, what? Yes, I remember distinctly that for the remainder of the school year and throughout the summer, your friend list fluctuated between ten and twenty, never higher or lower than that. I was a stalker, but I was curious. And I thought I was a tad anal about who I was friends with on the Internet. Jeez, you really liked your privacy. There weren't any pictures of you, even, and your profile picture was not of you. But I couldn't really complain about that. Mine was of my old red truck.

Which brought up an issue with this whole ordeal. Why would you friend me? I was your SILC student. I was by no means your friend. I don't know if we could have even called each other acquaintances. I thought that was so weird. I had no idea what you wanted. You had never talked to me or even tried to talk to me before or after bio. I may have been overreacting, but I was (and still am) not used to attention from the male species. I know, it wasn't really attention. But still. Why me? Why would you let me into your infinitesimal circle of cyber friends? I thought it beyond weird, but I let it go. I mean, it wasn't like the others in bio ever talked to me through Facebook.

But you weren't like the others, were you?

Three days later. I was on the couch in the front room, on the family laptop pretending to write my English paper, but really getting distracted by Facebook and glancing at the TV. That's when I heard it. _Pop!_ I knew that sound. Startled, I looked quickly around to see if my parents had heard the noise. No. I looked down to see who it was that was trying to chat with me.

It was you, Edward. You started out with your characteristic conversation initiator. Remember what it was? "Hallo." Yep, that's what you typed every time you wanted to talk to me for the first few months. It then turned into "Hi Bella," but during school and for the summer, it was always "Hallo." And I always responded with the same word as I did the first time, not really knowing what else to say. "Hi." That's all I would give you that first time and so many other times.

Because, holy shit, here you were, a boy I didn't know, trying to talk to me online when you had never done so in person. None of the others in bio had communicated on Facebook. And they had known me for six months, when you had only been in the class for one! I didn't know what to do. So I just said "Hi." I kind of hoped that you would get the hint with the one-worded response that I really didn't feel comfortable talking to you like that, but you didn't. You are quite the oblivious person sometimes, Edward. You have to admit that with everything I've been telling you that you never noticed, though the clues were all right there, waiting to get picked up and pieced together.

Then again, you will remain oblivious. It's not like you'll ever see these letters, anyway.

Anyway, you responded with your usual conversation starter, which at first I thought to be so stereotypically small talk, it was laughable. But then I realized that you really cared about the answer, or at least you used to care.

"How are you?"

Such a simple question, really. How are you? I really hate how that question is taken so lightly. It should be a genuine question, but it is thrown around so casually by people who really don't care about the answer. And of course, why should they? Because hardly anyone tells the truth. I'll admit it, I am guilty of doing the same thing. Lying about how I am, that is. Because everyone expects the same answer: "good" "great" "fine" "pretty well." It's all the same. Just big lies hidden by obscure words and a plastered smile. I try to avoid that whenever possible. I tell the truth to anyone I really know. If I'm doing "good" or "great" I say that and why. I don't give one worded answers. And if I'm just doing "ok" I say why then, too. And if I've been having a shit day, then I say so. You wanted the answer, so I'm giving it to you, whether you like the truth or not.

But you were different, Edward. You always wanted to know how I was. Sure, maybe it was a defense mechanism for when you didn't know what else to say, but it was genuine. How did I know? Because as time went on and I learned to trust you, I told you the truth. Not only that, you would ask me sometimes every five minutes. I laughed whenever you asked me and asked you once why you did so often. You said because the answer might have changed while we were talking. You wanted the answer when no one else did. Wow.

But I lied to you that first time, Edward. I gave you the generic answer. I had to. I barely knew you! I was so cautious, as I am with people I don't really know. See, I put up a wall when talking to people I'm not familiar with. It's just a reflex I have. I can't really help it. Sure, some people take it as being stand-offish and unfriendly, but I take it as caution. And boy, did I do it for you. But you never saw that wall. You busted right through it like it was air. You didn't take my hints that I really didn't want to talk to you.

You talked to me for two straight hours that first night. What did you talk about? Everything about yourself. I had no idea why. I asked you once, though. I asked very blatantly why you were telling me this very personal information. I think it was Sunday, the second night you talked to me, for about the same amount of time as the first day, too.

Do you remember what you said when I asked you that, Edward? It was the lamest answer in the world. I thought it was total bullshit. You said that you thought student-teacher relationships were important. I reminded you that I was nowhere near a teacher to you. I told you my policy: I was only an authority figure during bio class. Other than that, I was just a normal girl. You argued that I was still pretty much a teacher. No I wasn't. You knew that. I thought it was a blatant lie. Who says that? I asked you then if you told Mr. Banner the same things that you had told me. You gave me a response like "No. Why would I tell him?" Ha! I caught you red-handed! It was because of student-teacher relationships, my ass! I still don't know the real reason, though. And I don't think I ever will.

So what did you tell me those nights as I sat in my front room, nervous as hell that someone would look over my shoulder and see everything? You pretty much told me your life's story. You told me about how your favorite music was black metal. I had no idea what that genre of music was. You said it was satanic metal. And then you proceeded to tell me about how you were a Satanist. Why? Because you were at CCD in third grade one day and your teacher scared you so much about the wrath of God that you turned your back on that and turned to Satanism for solace. Of course, this didn't come to you till seventh grade, you said. That's when you really got into black metal. And you believed it completely. You explained all the theory behind it and I argued back, defending my loose background of Christianity. It was all very careful, though. No one got insulted. We would have the same discussions about life, afterlife, religion, spirituality, God, all that stuff many times after that.

I remember something else you told me. You said that you tried to commit suicide when you were in seventh grade. I don't remember why specifically you tried, but you did. You didn't tell me how you tried, either, and I didn't ask. I figured that was something even more personal than everything you were telling me and maybe you didn't want to share. I asked you a few months later, but you brushed it off like it was stupid. You said that you had hammed it up just so that I would talk to you. It was cute, in a weird and twisted way. But at the time, I was seriously concerned and very much disturbed. I asked you if you went to a therapist after that, if you had thoughts of ending your life. To the first, you just asked why you would see a shrink. To me, ending your life kind of means that you need help if not just emotionally, then mentally, too. Oh my gosh, was I so afraid for you! I felt like I was walking on thin ice with you, that you might crack at any second. As to the other question, you just said don't worry, you hadn't had thoughts like that since last summer. Summer was only six months ago! Holy shit, Edward, do you know what you put me through? There I was, trying my best not to let my facial expressions show any fraction of the distress that was boiling inside while I was in the same room as my parents, ready to explode. They couldn't find out anything.

And after all that, do you remember what you asked of me? That I keep this stuff secret. I wasn't supposed to tell anyone about your dark past. I immediately agreed, partly because who would I tell that you would know? The other part was that you seemed so troubled that I didn't want to harm you any more than you already had been in your life.

That weekend was intense. I learned about you as a real person with a real history. And holy crow, what a history it was. It's always the quiet ones. That phrase couldn't have been more correct. I had a real situation on my hands. You had thrown yourself at me, obviously desperate for attention. I was scared shitless, Edward. I had no idea what to think of you. I wanted to run away so badly that weekend and many times in the following weeks. Hell, I've told you before that I wanted to run away from you because I was so scared. You sure do make a strong first impression, or rather second. Your first impression was sweet and innocent, as I told you earlier in this letter.

As the days passed, I came to confirm my theory about you that I had begun to develop from the very first time I had talked to you on Facebook chat. Call me cheesy and obnoxiously religious, but this is what it was: there was a purpose and a reason for God to change both of our class schedules. God wanted me to meet you so I could help you. He wanted me to help you see the disturbance that is burning bibles and other crazy things that you did on a regular basis, and he wanted me to be a true friend when you so desperately needed one. Not to be cocky, Edward, but you did need me. And as I found out this spring when you left, I needed you too. I was just too stupid to realize it until you were gone. Hell, I still need you. But I did both things successfully. You needed guidance and you needed a friend and you got both. I gave you both with all my heart when I began to see you as a true friend. But now I guess you don't need either anymore with the way your life is going for these past few months, so I guess you don't need me anymore. But I still need you. Just so you know.

XXX

You talked to me every day, it felt like. My senior year, I got much more distracted and sick of homework, so I entertained myself by watching TV or reading or going online. The latter happened much more often. I would take to doing my homework in the basement sometimes, especially for writing English papers, which I seemed to be doing all the time. And every time I logged into Facebook, there you were, waiting to pounce like the little harmless kitten you were. I wouldn't have to wait longer than a minute before _pop!_

"Hallo"

"Hi"

"How are you?"

Every day. You would say the strangest things, too, whenever you would talk to me. You would break out into some kind of messed up poetry sometimes. I remember once you talked about green t-shirts and geese in the cornfields and cupcake hell. I was a little freaked out about that because I wore green all the time and people noticed that very often. Maybe you had, too? Another time you said something about plush carpeting in a van. I told Alice about that and she thought it was the biggest sexual innuendo in the world. "Bella, what happens in big vans with carpeting?" Ohhh. Did you really mean that, Edward? Other times you would talk of orangutans doing something that I don't remember. You mentioned orangutans more than once. But every time you would say things like that, I always ended up laughing. It was so random and nonsensical and immature that I had no choice but to enjoy it. You were so weird, but it was turning into a lovable weird, very very slowly, though. I don't think I really got completely comfortable with you until after graduation, which is kind of regretful. I wish I had trusted you sooner, Edward. You really were harmless, I figured out, and a great guy. The most amazing guy I had ever met in my life.

XXX

But sometimes I really was afraid of you. Your Satanism really scared me. You looked so innocent at school, but you clearly were not. You would tell me that you would buy bibles just to burn them in an old church parking lot. Why? Well, I thought it was because you were absolutely mad. But your answer was that you hated the hypocrisy that it was and how it was a bunch of lies. That really insulted me, you know. But I kept quiet about it all. I never let you know. Sure, I would argue about religion in general and how God is good and all, but it was very carefully emotionless. But you really did frighten me with all that. What had I gotten myself into by continuing to talk to you?

There was one occurrence on chat that I very much remember that also had me very disturbed and actually pretty angry. You might be able to guess since I've told you before about how I felt. We were talking and you were apparently practicing on the keyboard at the same time. I don't remember what we were talking about, but all of a sudden you changed the topic of conversation to your practicing. I went with it. You were learning how to play some Chopin piece, which was pretty cool. But you started to get a little weird about it. You were saying about how you were finding out how tiring practicing was and how overheated and sweaty you were becoming as you were practicing and talking to me. I personally didn't understand that at all. You were just moving your fingers, for God's sake! It wasn't like you were doing any real physical exertion. But I went with it.

And then you said the thing that freaked me out more than anything. You told me that you were getting so hot and sweaty, that you had stripped down to only your boxers as you were playing the keyboard and talking to me at that moment.

Holy shit! I stared at that screen, not believing my eyes. But you really told me that. I quickly copied and pasted of that conversation to Alice's chat window. I had been talking to her on the side. I panicked and frantically asked what I should do. All the while, I said nothing to you. I didn't know what to say, so I didn't respond at all. Alice told me that I had to let you know that I felt very uncomfortable with you telling me of your lack of clothes. She insisted that I had to put my foot down and let you know that it was completely inappropriate to give me that kind of information. So I did. I restrained myself and just said that you were being inappropriate and you shouldn't have told me such things.

You little shit, you know what you said to that? You said something like "well that was a delayed reaction." What the fuck was that supposed to mean? Oh, I knew what it meant. You thought that I had enjoyed your tidbit of information. You thought you were being hot shit and that I would fall for it. Well, guess again. It freaked me the fuck out. Not only that, your little comment about my "delayed reaction" set me over the edge. I let you have it. I told you _exactly_ how I felt. It was something about how what you said scared me shitless that I didn't know what to do and how I was in shock and how I really wanted to run and hide and never talk to you again. I don't think I swore at you, but I wanted to. I got angrier then than anything. You really did deserve a slap across the face for that.

XXX

I didn't keep your secret, Edward. I told my friends about you. I told them pretty much everything. This is what I figured: you would never meet any of my friends, from either school or dance. Also, I swear there's something in the genetic makeup of girls that make us want to tell our friends everything. This wasn't something insignificant in my life, Edward. Here you were, a sophomore boy, talking to me every day on Facebook, and not about stupid things. You scared me. You disturbed me. I had to tell _someone_. On top of that, I absolutely love to tell stories. You know that very well. These were prime stories that I just couldn't keep to myself.

I felt so terribly guilty later when I realized that you were here to stay in my life, or so I thought. I don't know about that right now, Edward. Of course, I want you to stay forever. But I don't think you want to. And how can I stop you from leaving? It takes two for a friendship.

I remember telling them in a few regular times in my weekly schedule. Every Saturday morning, I would haul my ass out of bed to make it down to Port Angeles by nine in the morning. Why? For voice practices, of course. We were preparing for a national convention, so we needed all the extra help we could get. It was all done by ourselves. We thought of what to concentrate on for the day, critiqued, and fixed all by ourselves. But before our director arrived (she was chronically late) was when I would tell them of you. And they would look at me with wide eyes and laugh and agree with me: I had a little stalker on my hands.

The same thing happened with my school friends, mostly Alice and Rose because I say them regularly during the day. But I would tell them stories right after biology, on our way up to the fourth floor, oh the irony. I would also tell them things during calculus, which was also ironic, if you think about it (if you don't remember, I'll tell you soon). And they would tell me the same things as my dance friends. The main one was that I needed to block you and refuse to talk anymore. Believe me, I had considered that.

But that wasn't an option to me. I told you before, I really thought that there was a reason why we met. Also, you seemed so insecure at the time. Sure, you were a smiley guy in school and you talked cheerfully online, but I knew better. And it turned out that I was right. You needed a friend more than anything else in the world. Why, I don't know, but you picked me for the job. I was unwilling at first, but I felt obliged to help you. You needed someone and I was there. Of course, as time went on, I was more than willing to be there for you. I was so selfish, I wanted to be your everything.

I told my school friends this and I think they understood, but not completely. They still thought that I should never speak to you again, but they didn't urge me to do so. They knew why I was doing what I was doing.

XXX

So, there you have it. Is what I described accurate, Edward? I don't remember many of the specific details such as what we said to each other, but I remember the emotions I experienced that semester as I got to know you and let you in little by little. I admit that at the time, I had fully intended on not seeing or speaking to you after I graduated. I had wanted nothing to do with you. You were strange, sometimes maybe even a tad dangerous. You scared me, but for some reason I still ended up talking with you. The course of events that we go through in life never cease to amaze me.

Love?

BMS

**There you go. Now you know the beginning to their strange relationship. Kinda long, I know, but long=good, right? I'll be honest, this chapter is kinda like my baby. So, if you could shoot me a review about it, that'd be great because reviews=love. Also, I was listening to Pandora yesterday whilst paper writing and came across a perfect song describing this story. It's amazing and you should check it out. It's called "Beautifully" by Jay Brannan. **


	21. Saturday, July 31

**I own nothing except my memories.**

Saturday, July 31, 2010

Dear Edward,

Sorry for all the flashbacks, but we got to do it again for two reasons: this event happened exactly a year ago and I need something that I can laugh about.

July 31, 2009. I was working that afternoon at Rhem. Oh, how I detested that job, especially when I got sent to Rhem. There was nothing to do, so I usually hid at the side of the building in the shade, right in front of the gate that used to be the main entrance to the pool when the front of the building was being remodeled. I know it was slacking, but I didn't give a shit. I hated that job and the idiots I worked for.

Even though they told us not to, I always had my phone with me. Not because I really used it during work, but I had to check the time and count down the minutes somehow. Though at Rhem I would check what the bank had on their huge clock at the top of their building, which was a cross the highway and down a few blocks, when I did my rounds inspecting the parking lot and lawn for garbage. And I only did that just to make an appearance to whoever was at the front entrance and to actually do something. Oh, what a life.

Anyway, it was July 31, Renee's birthday. It was also, as said on the postcard I received a few days previously, the day you were to come home. I figured I wouldn't see you until August 2 or 3 because I remembered when I went to Europe and both times we came back towards the end of the day, tired as ever from jetlag. But you proved me wrong, yet again. I felt the vibration in my shorts pocket and on the screen said your name. Completely surprised, I flipped the phone open with a surprised "Hello?" And indeed it was you, come back safe and sound after three weeks in the Scottish highlands that you loved so much. I didn't care that I was at work and could get in trouble if I got caught talking to you, I hadn't seen or heard from you in three weeks, save for that postcard.

You had a purpose in calling me, though. It was really funny, getting you to spit it out. You just beat around the bush. You told me how "your" jazz band was playing at a restaurant tonight. It was called La Bella Italia. I'd never heard of it before, but you insisted that it was in Forks. You even thought it was right by my house. I didn't believe you for a second, so I asked where in Forks it was and you said by Ridgeland. I laughed at that. I live in Forks, Edward. There is no Ridgeland Avenue in that tiny town. Ridgeland is in Port Angeles. You seemed kind of disappointed by that.

By then, I had put two and two together. You wanted me to come watch. Oh, it was so obvious once I had figured it out. I smiled to myself at your shyness and decided to cut to the chase, mainly to listen to you squirm for a bit, but to also know your real intentions for telling me all this. Who knew? I could have been wrong.

I wasn't. I just asked "Edward, do you want me to come to watch?" And you just beat around the bush again and said if I wanted to come and if I wasn't busy or anything like that. I took that as a yes. I asked for the time. You said from 8 to 10 you guys would be playing. You even mentioned that you would have a piano solo at the beginning.

I found a potential problem in all of that: it was my mom's birthday and surely she would want me around and not walking the streets of Port Angeles to watch you play piano. I told you this and that I would still ask, but no guarantees. I would call you to tell you the verdict later, but if I could come, it would be later in the evening. I also was starting to come back to my senses and said I couldn't talk anymore since I was at work, damned hellhole. We hung up and I began to plot my approach to this.

It hit me that you had asked me to do something that only a very good friend would do, if not a girlfriend. So, what did that say about your intentions? Sure, you weren't as forward with your giving me attention and wanting to be with me, but it concerned me all the same. You were nervous. Why would you be nervous if you just wanted to be friends? We were supposed to be completely casual, completely platonic. There was no reason for nervousness. But I shook this all off and told myself that Alice had officially messed with my mind. You know that she absolutely insisted, "He's in _love_ with you, Bella."

My other issue was that it was my mom's birthday. It wasn't a huge concern, but it was a potential problem. Renee is very understanding about the way her family works: everyone runs in and out of the house, either because of school, jobs, friends, or any random activities. She has long since stopped trying to prevent me and Charlie from the constant in-and-out. She picks her battles and prioritizes. Her birthday, oddly enough, is not a high priority for her. Hell, today she took me to about five stores just so I could get a new swimsuit before we went on vacation. (By the way, it is a two piece—my first ever—with a sky-blue top and brown bottoms.)

With a little luck, I knew I could go to your thing that night. I just had to play my cards right. First, I immediately settled for a compromise. I asked for nine o'clock. I knew I had to be home for cake and ice cream, so there was no point in asking for earlier. Also, I really didn't feel like listening to jazz for two whole hours. I was barely able to handle the hour I was there. The other strategy was not specifically giving your identity. Don't worry, I didn't lie, though I would be doing that many times in the future, so it's not like it mattered in the long run anyway. I just said that one of my bio kids (which you were) asked me if I could watch his band play tonight (which you did). I also made it seem like it was a little strange to me, but was obliging a request from an innocent sixteen year-old (you were far from innocent).

In the end, it all worked out with almost no persuasion. She said okay right from the get-go. It was that easy.

My second plan of action was to find a willing friend or two to accompany me that night. There was no way in hell I was going to walk in there by myself. It would look pathetic in more ways than one. So, I called up Alice and Rosalie to see if they wanted to come with. I told them the whole situation, sans my inferences about your being nervous and all that. I didn't want to feed the flames. They agreed immediately, ready to snatch a chance of gaining new material to tease me with, especially Alice.

When the time came to get ready, I wondered what to wear. I had looked up the specific address of the restaurant and it looked like a pretty fancy joint. I mean, it wasn't super formal or anything intense, but it sure wasn't T.G.I. Friday's. You know what's crazy? I even remember what I wore. I donned my favorite jeans, a black tank, and a green lightweight jacket that is meant to be worn indoors. I made sure that my makeup looked nice, and I was ready to go, not dressed up, but definitely qualifying as nice.

I've got a question for you, Edward. Did you see how nervous I got as we walked in front of the storefront windows and into the restaurant entrance? Because I got so scared and jittery as me, Alice, and Rosalie walked from the car parked about a block away. I wanted to turn back and go home, but they wouldn't let me. I insisted that you wouldn't mind if I didn't show up, but they were relentless. When we got to the windows, I stopped, to afraid to go on. Alice grabbed me by the elbow and dragged me the rest of the way. When we reached the front desk, I couldn't even speak. Luckily, Rose kept her cool and did all the talking. We were originally led away into another part of the restaurant, away from the band that was playing right at the front entrance, but Rose, once again, spoke up to mention that we were actually there to see the band. I remember the waiter looking at us a bit strangely, probably assessing our likely ages. We did not look to be the same age as the teenage boys playing in the band at all with our causal-dressy attire.

We were led back into the main room, towards the middle and next to a wall. Not a second after the greeter left and not before we had a chance to take our seats (which is insane, if you ask me), someone from behind me said "Excuse me, Bella?"

I turned around and craned my neck to meet the eyes of an incredibly tall and beautiful middle-aged woman. I only had two thoughts in my mind: Who was this woman and how did she know my name? For she was only looking at _me_. I tried to think of where I could have possibly met her, but came up with nothing. "Yes?" was all I could come up with me.

That was all she needed to start gushing. "I'm Edward's mom. It's so nice to meet you. Edward has told me so many good things about you and helping all semester with biology…"

I felt something heavy hanging off my upper arm. Alice had me in a death grip, struggling to keep herself upright and with a straight face, but failing miserably. Her cheeks were even turning red with the held-in laughter. I tried to elbow her in the side inconspicuously to get her to stop before this woman noticed, but it was all in vain. I just let her hang on to me while trying to not seem too irritated with her.

"…And I just wanted to thank you for being such a great help to him."

I was stunned by all of this flattery. "Oh, it was nothing at all. I mean, it was my job to help him and all."

Mrs. Cullen smiled again. "Well, it was so nice to finally meet you, Bella."

"You too," I said automatically. And as quickly as she appeared, she took off again.

We finally took our seats and Alice immediately let all the laughter building up explode.

Love?

BMS

**Remember, reviews=love.**


	22. Sunday, August 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight or anything mentioned in this story that exists in the real world. **

Sunday, August 1, 2010

Dear Edward,

I have a confession to make.

Do you remember, once upon a time, when you would contact me every day, sometimes in the most unexpected ways?

I do.

It would be skyping, chatting, texting, and calling (but only if I got really lucky). It would be every day for hours, just talking about everything and nothing at the same time. Stories, dreams, thoughts on life and what is beyond this world. I connected with you as if I had known you for years instead of months. I don't know how you did it, but you opened me up in a way that only a few others have ever been able to figure out.

You knew me so well and I thought I knew you, too. I could tell when you'd get upset, even if you didn't want to admit it. I knew when you attempted to hide something from me, which I could weasel out of you in a matter of minutes. Yes, in a matter of time, I felt like we were two peas in a pod. We just understood each other so well. We fit.

But apparently I was wrong.

For obvious reasons, you are not completely predictable. To be honest, no one has a personality formula that is set in stone. Otherwise, life would be so boring, don't you think? But besides you leaving me, Edward, you surprised me in other, more delightful ways. Ways that would send my heart fluttering and wondering if this was what guy friends did to the girls who were just their buddies. I had no idea, but I tried my best to shove those dangerous thoughts to the dark abyss of my mind.

Of course, they always seemed to come back like a boomerang.

What were these little surprises that I am so fondly mentioning? They're messages, of course! Even the ones that you had taken down from my wall. You see, Edward, you may not have realized, but just like everyone else, I get little emails for any activity on my profile. That means you, too. And you can't take away an email, though you can remove a post on Facebook.

So, I thought I'd share some of these lovely posts that brightened my days and were so sweet and unexpected, I didn't know what to do. All I did was grin and float, just like the teenage girl that I never acted like before.

HAPPY FOURTH OF JULY BELLA!

Bella, are you gonna be here next Thursday because I am playing at Trattoria again around the 9-9:30 ish realm.

GOOD MORNING MADEMOISELLE!

HAPPY THANKSGIVING BELLA!

I MISS YOU

MERRY CHRISTMAS BELLA!

Bella, today was really long. I missed you already. Yeah this is wall spam.

Hi Bella, Happy unbirthday. I miss you a ton.

Happy early St. Patrick's day, Bella.

Also good luck on your midterm tomorrow!

I definitely broke down the second your car drove off.

And you would send me messages, countless messages. They could be the most thoughtful or thoughtless things, too. Many of them were songs like "Adrienne" that I didn't know what to think after listening to the sweet melodies and lyrics. Others were just what you were thinking, which I swear I wanted to know just as much as you wanted to know whatwas going on in my mind. Here is just one I found in my email inbox that I for some reason saved:

Dear Bella,

I miss you a ton. I hope that everything is working out and that you do good on the chem test thing you were studying for. I hope you get A's on all of the labs you did. I hope you have a good weekend full of relaxation to recoop from this insanity. I miss you a ton. Sleep well when you do. Good night. I miss you a ton. Big hug. I can't wait till you are home.

love,  
Edward

p.s.  
I have been listening to Rock Bottom a ton this week. it is all your fault.

Love. Do you know how much that stuff swelled in my heart after I read that, even now? It's quite pathetic, really. You don't even want me as a person in your life, and yet my heart can't listen to a damn thing my head is telling it. It sucks. But I believed that you really might have loved me. You were so endearing, so willing to let me in when I know that to others you hadn't. Surely if you said love, it meant something? I just kept telling myself this, trying to convince my logical brain that was so atuned to being skeptical, looking for the hard facts, like a good scientist. It worked for a long time, too. I thought that maybe I could be loved by another and here he is, right before me. Someone I had intitally thought that I would never even talk to outside of our one class in common.

I just thought I'd like to share that with you. Just so you could see what was going on in my mind and why you can't do the things you do to girls. With your looks and strange but charming personality, all it does is make geeky girls like me swoon, even though they try their best not to. It's like a spontaneous reaction of the heart. It may not go fast, but the process of falling for you is unstoppable.

I just hope that it's reversible.

Love?

BMS

**Yikes! Sorry, but I'm at a sort of research camp right now, so I'm just a tad busy. Hopefully I will be better at updating.**


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